FOUR  STAGES  OF 

GREEK    RELIGION 


COLUMBIA  UNIVERSITY  LECTURis     OCT    7   1913 

\^ 

FOUR  STAGES  OF 
GREEK   RELIGION 


STUDIES  BASED  ON  A  COURSE  OF  LECTURES 

DELIVERED  IN  APRIL  1912 

AT  COLUMBIA  UNIVERSITY 


BY 


V 


GILBERT  MURRAY 

REGIUS    PROFESSOR    OF    GREEK    IN    THE    UNIVERSITY   OF   OXFORD 


IN-LITTERIS-U3ERTAS  l[!!l 


NEW  YORK 

COLUMBIA   UNIVERSITY   PRESS 

1912 


PRINTED   BY  HORACE  HART  M.A, 
AT  THE   CLARENDON   PRESS 
OXFORD,   ENGLAND 


PREFACE 

This  small  book  has  taken  a  long  time  in  growing. 
Though  the  first  two  essays  were  only  put  in  writing 
this  year  for  a  course  of  lectures  which  I  had  the 
honour  of  delivering  at  Columbia  University,  the 
third,  which  was  also  used  at  Columbia,  had  in  its 
main  features  appeared  in  the  Hihhert  Journal  in  1910, 
the  fourth  in  part  in  the  English  Review  in  1908  ;  the 
translation  of  Sallustius  was  made  in  1907  for  use  with 
a  small  class  at  Oxford.  Much  of  the  material  is  much 
older  in  conception,  and  all  has  been  reconsidered. 
I  must  thank  the  editors  of  both  the  above-named 
periodicals  for  their  kind  permission  to  reprint. 

I  think  it  was  the  writings  of  my  friend  Mr.  Andrew 
Lang  that  first  awoke  me,  in  my  undergraduate  days, 
to  the  importance  of  anthropology  and  primitive 
religion  to  a  Greek  scholar.  Certainly  I  began  then 
to  feel  that  the  great  works  of  the  ancient  Greek 
imagination  are  penetrated  habitually  by  religious 
conceptions  and  postulates  which  literary  scholars  like 
myself  had  not  observed  or  understood.  In  the 
meantime  the  situatipn  has  changed.  Greek  religion 
is  being  studied  right  and  left,  and  has  revealed  itself 


6  PREFACE 

as  a  surprisingly  rich  and  attractive,  though  somewhat 
controversial,  subject.  It  used  to  be  a  deserted 
territory ;  now  it  is  at  least  a  battle-ground.  If  ever 
the  present  differences  resolved  themselves  into  a  simple 
fight  with  shillelaghs  between  the  scholars  and  the 
anthropologists,  I  should  without  doubt  wield  my 
reluctant  weapon  on  the  side  of  the  scholars.  Scholar- 
ship is  the  rarer,  harder,  less  popular  and  perhaps  the 
more  permanently  valuable  work,  and  it  certainly 
stands  more  in  need  of  defence  at  the  moment.  But 
in  the  meantime  I  can  hardly  understand  how  the 
purest  of  '  pure  scholars '  can  fail  to  feel  his  knowledge 
enriched  by  the  savants  who  have  compelled  us  to 
dig  below  the  surface  of  our  classical  tradition  and 
to  realize  the  imaginative  and  historical  problems  which 
so  often  lie  concealed  beneath  the  smooth  security  of 
a  verbal  '  construe '.  My  own  essays  do  not  for  a 
moment  claim  to  speak  with  authority  on  a  subject 
which  is  still  changing  and  showing  new  facets  year 
by  year.  They  only  claim  to  represent  the  way  of 
regarding  certain  large  issues  of  Greek  Religion  which 
has  gradually  taken  shape,  and  has  proved  practically 
helpful  and  consistent  with  facts,  in  the  mind  of  a  very 
constant,  though  unsystematic,  reader  of  many  various 
periods  of  Greek  literature. 

In  the  first  essay  my  debt  to  Miss  Harrison  is  great 
and  obvious.     My  statement  of  one  or  two  points  is 


PREFACE  7 

probably  different  from  hers,  but  in  the  main  I  follow 
her  lead.  And  in  either  case  I  cannot  adequately 
describe  the  advantage  I  have  derived  from  many  years 
of  frequent  discussion  and  comparison  of  results  with 
a  Hellenist  whose  learning  and  originality  of  mind  are 
only  equalled  by  her  vivid  generosity  towards  her 
fellow-workers. 

The  second  may  also  be  said  to  have  grown  out  of 
Miss  Harrison's  writings.  She  has  by  now  made  the 
title  of  '  Olympian  '  almost  a  term  of  reproach,  and 
thrown  down  so  many  a  scornful  challenge  to  the 
canonical  gods  of  Greece,  that  I  have  ventured  on 
this  attempt  to  explain  their  historical  origin  and  plead 
for  their  religious  value.  When  the  essay  was  already 
written  I  read  Mr.  Chadwick's  impressive  book  on 
^he  Heroic  Age  (Cambridge,  191 2),  and  was  delighted 
to  find  in  an  author  whose  standpoint  and  equipment 
are  so  different  from  mine  so  much  that  confirmed  or 
clarified  my  own  view. 

The  title  of  the  third  essay  I  owe  to  a  conversation 
with  Professor  J.  B.  Bury.  We  were  discussing  the 
change  that  took  place  in  Greek  thought  between, 
say,  Plato  and  the  Neo-Platonists,  or  even  between 
Aristotle  and  Posidonius,  and  which  is  seen  at  its 
highest  power  in  the  Gnostics.  I  had  been  calling  it 
a  rise  of  asceticism,  or  mysticism,  or  religious  passion, 
or  the  like,  when  my  friend  corrected  me.    *  It  is  not 


8  PREFACE 

a  rise  ;  it  is  a  fall  or  failure  of  something,  a  sort  of 
failure  of  nerve.' — We  are  treading  here  upon  some- 
what firmer  ground  than  in  the  first  two  essays.  The 
field  for  mere  conjecture  is  less  :  we  are  supported 
more  continuously  by  explicit  documents.  Yet  the 
subject  is  a  very  difficult  one  owing  to  the  scattered 
and  chaotic  nature  of  the  sources,  and  even  where 
we  get  away  from  fragments  and  reconstructions  and 
reach  definite  treatises  with  or  without  authors'  names, 
I  cannot  pretend  to  feel  anything  like  the  same  clearness 
about  the  true  meaning  of  a  passage  in  Philo  or  the 
Corpus  Hermeticum  that  one  normally  feels  in  a  writer 
of  the  classical  period.  Consequently  in  this  essay 
I  think  I  have  hugged  my  modern  authorities  rather 
close,  and  seldom  expressed  an  opinion  for  which  I 
could  not  find  some  fairly  authoritative  backing,  my 
debt  being  particularly  great  to  Reitzenstein,  Bousset, 
and  the  brilliant  Hellenistisch-Rdmische  Kultur  of 
P.  Wendland.  I  must  also  thank  my  old  pupil, 
Mr.  Edwyn  Bevan,  who  was  kind  enough  to  read 
this  book  in  proof,  for  some  valuable  criticisms. 
The  subject  is  one  of  such  extraordinary  interest  that 
I  offer  no  apology  for  calling  further  attention  to  it. 

A  word  or  two  about  the  last  brief  revival  of  the 
ancient  religion  under  '  Julian  the  Apostate  '  forms 
the  natural  close  to  this  series  of  studies.  But  here  our 
material,  both  historical  and  literary,  is  so  abundant 


PREFACE  9 

that  I  have  followed  a  different  method.  After  a  short 
historical  introduction  I  have  translated  in  full  a  very 
curious  and  little-known  ancient  text,  which  may  be 
said  to  constitute  something  like  an  authoritative 
Pagan  creed.  Some  readers  may  regret  that  I  do  not 
give  the  Greek  as  well  as  the  English.  I  am  reluctant, 
however,  to  publish  a  text  which  I  have  not  examined 
in  the  MSS.,  and  I  feel  also  that,  while  an  edition  of 
Sallustius  is  rather  urgently  needed,  it  ought  to  be  an 
edition  with  a  full  commentary. 

I  was  first  led  to  these  studies  by  the  wish  to  fill  up 
certain  puzzling  blanks  of  ignorance  in  my  own  mind, 
and  doubtless  the  little  book  bears  marks  of  this  origin. 
It  aims  largely  at  the  filling  of  interstices.  It  avoids 
the  great  illuminated  places,  and  gives  its  mind  to  the 
stretches  of  intervening  twilight.  It  deals  little  with 
the  harvest  of  flowers  or  fruit,  but  watches  the  incon- 
spicuous seasons  when  the  soil  is  beginning  to  stir,  the 
seeds  are  falling  or  ripening. 

G.  M. 


CONTENTS 

PAGE 

I.  Saturnia  Regna IS 

11.  The  Olympian  Conquest       •         •         •  57 

III.  The  Failure  of  Nerve  ....  105 

IV.  The  Last  Protest.         .         .         .         -  ^57 

Appendix  :    Translation  of  the  Treatise  of 

Sallustius,  Trepl  Seoju  kol  Kdcr/xou    .  .187 

INDEX 215 


avOpojTTO^  6  KvpLO'S  ef  ovpavov. 

'  The  first  man  is  of  the  earth,  earthy ;  the  second 
man  is  the  Lord  from  heaven.' 


I 

SATURNIA    REGNA 


SATURNIA  REGNA 

Many  persons  who  are  quite  prepared  to  admit  the 
importance  to  the  world  of  Greek  poetry,  Greek  art, 
and  Greek  philosophy,  may  still  feel  it  rather  a  paradox 
to  be  told  that  Greek  religion  specially  repays  our  study 
at  the  present  day.  Greek  religion,  associated  with 
a  romantic,  trivial,  and  not  very  edifying  mythology, 
has  generally  seemed  one  of  the  weakest  spots  in  the 
armour  of  those  giants  of  the  old  world.  Yet  I  will 
venture  to  make  for  Greek  religion  almost  as  great 
a  claim  as  for  the  thought  and  the  literature,  not  only 
because  the  whole  mass  of  it  is  shot  through  by  those 
strange  lights  of  feeling  and  imagination,  and  the 
details  of  it  constantly  wrought  into  beauty  by  that 
instinctive  sense  of  artistic  form,  which  we  specially 
associate  with  Classical  Greece,  but  also  for  two 
definite  historical  reasons.  In  the  first  place,  the 
student  of  that  dark  and  fascinating  department  of 
the  human  mind  which  we  may  call  Religious  Origins, 
will  find  in  Greece  an  extraordinary  mass  of  material 
belonging  to  a  very  early  date.  For  detail  and  variety 
the  primitive  Greek  evidence  has  no  equal.  And, 
secondly,  in  this  department  as  in  others,  ancient 
Greece  has  the  triumphant  if  tragic  distinction  of 
beginning  at  the  very  bottom  and  struggling,  however 


i6  SATURNIA  REGNA  i 

precariously,  to  the  very  summits.  There  is  hardly 
any  horror  of  primitive  superstition  of  which  we  cannot 
find  some  distant  traces  in  our  Greek  record.  There 
is  hardly  any  height  of  spiritual  thought  attained  in  the 

/  world  that  has  not  its  archetype  or  its  echo  in  the 
stretch  of  Greek  literature  that  lies  between  Thales 
and  St.  Paul. 

The  progress  of  Greek  religion  falls  naturally  into 
three  stages,  all  of  them  historically  important.  First 
there  is  the  primitive  Euetheia  or  Age  of  Ignorance, 

i  before  Zeus  came  to  trouble  men's  minds,  a  stage  to 
which  our  anthropologists  and  explorers  have  found 
parallels  in  every  part  of  the  world.  Dr.  Preuss  applies 
to  it  the  charming  word  *  Urdummheit  ',  or  '  Primal 
Stupidity  '.  In  some  ways  characteristically  Greek, 
in  others  it  is  so  typical  of  similar  stages  of  thought 
elsewhere  that  one  is  tempted  to  regard  it  as  the 
normal  beginning  of  all  religion,  or  almost  as  the 
normal  raw  material  out  of  which  religion  is  made. 
There  is  certainly  some  repulsiveness,  but  I  confess 
that  to  me  there  is  also  an  element  of  fascination  in 
the  study  of  these  '  beastly  devices  of  the  heathen  ', 
at  any  rate  as  they  appear  in  early  Greece,  where  each 
single  *  beastly  device  '  as  it  passes  is  somehow  touched 
with  beauty  and  transformed  by  some  spirit  of  upward 
striving. 

Secondly  there  is  the  Olympian  or  classical  stage, 
a  stage  in  which,  for  good  or  ill,  blunderingly  or 
successfully,  this  primitive  vagueness  was  reduced  to  a 
kind  of  order.  This  is  the  stage  of  the  great  Olym- 
pian gods,  who  dominated  art  and  poetry,  ruled  the 


I  SATURNIA  REGNA  17 

imagination  of  Rome,  and  extended  a  kind  of  romantic 
dominion  even  over  the  Middle  Ages.  It  is  the  stage 
that  we  know  from  the  statues  and  the  hand-books 
of  mythology.  Brilliant  critics  have  said  that  this 
Olympian  stage  has  value  only  as  art  and  not  as 
religion.  That  is  just  one  of  the  points  into  which 
we  shall  inquire. 

Thirdly  there  is  the  Hellenistic  period,  reaching 
roughly  from  Plato  to  St.  Paul  or  the  earlier  Gnostics, 
a  period  based  on  the  consciousness  of  manifold  failure, 
and  consequently  touched  both  with  morbidness  and 
with  that  spiritual  exaltation  which  is  so  often  the  com- 
panion of  morbidness.  It  had  behind  it  the  failure  of 
the  Olympian  theology,  the  failure  of  the  free  city-state, 
now  crushed  by  semi-barbarous  military  monarchies ; 
it  lived  through  the  gradual  realization  of  two  other 
failures — the  failure  of  human  government,  even  when 
backed  by  the  power  of  Rome  or  the  wealth  of  Egypt, 
to  achieve  a  good  life  for  man  ;  and  lastly  the  failure 
of  the  great  propaganda  of  Hellenism,  in  which  the 
long-drawn  effort  of  Greece  to  educate  a  corrupt  and 
barbaric  world  seemed  only  to  lead  to  the  corruption 
or  barbarization  of  the  very  ideals  which  it  sought  to 
spread.  This  sense  of  failure,  this  progressive  loss  of 
hope  in  the  world,  in  sober  calculation,  and  in  organized 
human  effort,  threw  the  later  Greek  back  upon  his  own 
soul,  upon  emotion,  upon  the  pursuit  of  personal 
holiness,  upon  emotions  mysteries  and  revelations, 
upon  the  comparative  neglect  of  this  transitory  and 
imperfect  life  for  the  sake  of  some  dream-world  far  off, 
which  shall  subsist  without  sin  or  corruption,  the  same 

P-  p.  &48  B 


1 8  SATURNIA  REGNA  i 

yesterday,  to-day,  and  for  ever.  These  three  are 
the  really  significant  and  formative  periods  of  Greek 
religious  thought ;  but  we  may  well  cast  our  eyes  also 
on  a  fourth  stage,  not  historically  influential  perhaps, 
but  at  least  romantic  and  interesting  and  worthy  of 
considerable  respect,  when  the  old  religion  in  the  time 
of  Julian  roused  itself  for  a  last  spiritual  protest  against 
the  all-conquering  '  atheism '  of  the  Christians.  The 
tendencies  of  the  third  stage  are  here  accentuated  by 
an  increased  demand  for  definite  dogma  and  a  still 
deeper  consciousness  of  worldly  defeat. 

I  shall  not  start  with  any  definition  of  religion. 
Religion,  like  poetry  and  most  other  living  things, 
cannot  be  defined.  But  some  description  of  it  perhaps 
may  be  useful,  or  at  least  some  characteristic  marks. 
In  the  first  place,  religion  essentially  deals  with  the 
uncharted  region  of  human  experience.  A  large  part 
of  human  life  has  been  thoroughly  surveyed  and 
explored  ;  we  understand  the  causes  at  work  ;  and  we 
are  not  bewildered  by  the  problems.  That  is  the 
domain  of  positive  knowledge.  But  all  round  us  on 
every  side  there  is  an  uncharted  region,  just  fragments 
of  the  fringe  of  it  explored,  and  those  imperfectly;  it  is 
with  this  that  religion  deals.  And  secondly  we  may  note 
that  religion  deals  with  its  own  province  not  tentatively, 
by  the  normal  methods  of  patient  intellectual  research, 
but  directly,  and  by  methods  of  emotion  or  sub-conscious 
apprehension.  Agriculture,  for  instance,  used  to  be 
entirely  a  question  of  religion  ;  now  it  is  almost  entirely 
a  question  of  science.    In  antiquity,  if  a  field  was  barren. 


I  SATURNIA  REGNA  19 

the  owner  of  it  would  probably  assume  that  the  barren- 
ness was  due  to  ^pollution',  or  offence  somewhere.  He 
would  run  through  all  his  own  possible  offences,  or  at 
any  rate  those  of  his  neighbours  and  ancestors,  and 
when  he  eventually  decided  the  cause  of  the  trouble, 
the  steps  that  he  would  take  would  all  be  of  a  kind 
calculated  not  to  affect  the  chemical  constitution  of 
the  soil,  but  to  satisfy  his  own  emotions  of  guilt  and 
terror,  or  the  imaginary  emotions  of  the  imaginary 
being  he  had  offended.  A  modern  man  in  the  same 
predicament  would  probably  not  think  of  religion  at 
all,  at  any  rate  in  the  earlier  stages ;  he  would  say  it 
was  a  case  for  deeper  ploughing  or  for  basic  slag.  Later 
on,  if  disaster  followed  disaster  till  he  began  to  feel 
himself  a  marked  man,  even  the  average  modern 
would,  I  think,  begin  instinctively  to  reflect  upon  his 
sins.  A  third  characteristic  flows  from  the  first.  The 
uncharted  region  surrounds  us  on  every  side  and  is 
apparently  infinite ;  consequently,  when  once  the 
things  of  the  uncharted  region  are  admitted  as  factors 
in  our  ordinary  conduct  of  life  they  are  apt  to  be 
infinite  factors,  overruling  and  swamping  all  others. 
The  thing  that  religion  forbids  is  a  thing  never  to  be 
done  ;  not  all  the  inducements  that  this  life  can  offer 
weigh  at  all  in  the  balance.  Indeed  there  is  no  balance. 
The  man  who  makes  terms  with  his  conscience  is 
essentially  non-religious  ;  the  religious  man  knows  that 
it  will  profit  him  nothing  if  he  gain  all  this  finite  world 
and  lose  his  stake  in  the  infinite  and  eternal.^ 

^  Professor  Emile  Durkheim  in  his  famous  analysis  of  the  religious 
emotions  argues  that  when  a  man  feels  the  belief  and  the  command 

B  2 


20  SATURNIA  REGNA  i 

Am  I  going  to  draw  no  distinction  then  between 
religion  and  mere  superstition  ?  Not  at  present.  Later 
/  on  we  may  perhaps  see  some  way  to  it.  Superstition  is 
N^the  name  given  to  a  low  or  bad  form  of  religion, 
to  the  kind  of  religion  we  disapprove.  The  line  of 
division,  if  we  made  one,  would  be  only  an  arbitrary 
bar  thrust  across  a  highly  complex  and  continuous 
process. 

Does  this  amount  to  an  implication  that  all  the 

as  something  coming  from  without,  superior,  authoritative,  of  infinite 
import,  it  is  because  religion  is  the  work  of  the  tribe  and,  as  such, 
superior  to  the  individual.  The  voice  of  God  is  the  imagined  voice  of 
the  whole  tribe,  heard  or  imagined  by  him  who  is  going  to  break  its 
laws.  I  have  some  difficulty  about  the  psychology  implied  in  this 
doctrine  :  surely  the  apparent  externality  of  the  religious  command 
seems  to  belong  to  a  fairly  common  type  of  experience,  in  which  the 
personality  is  divided,  so  that  first  one  part  of  it  and  then  another 
emerges  into  consciousness.  If  you  forget  an  engagement,  sometimes 
your  peace  is  disturbed  for  quite  a  long  time  by  a  vague  external 
annoyance  or  condemnation,  which  at  last  grows  to  be  a  distinct 
judgement — '  Heavens !  I  ought  to  be  at  the  Committee  on  So-and- 
so.'  But  apart  from  this  criticism,  there  is  obviously  much  historical 
truth  in  Professor  Durkheim's  theory,  and  it  is  not  so  different  as 
it  seems  at  first  sight  from  the  ordinary  beliefs  of  religious  men.  The 
tribe  to  primitive  man  is  not  a  mere  group  of  human  beings.  It  is  his 
whole  world.  The  savage  who  is  breaking  the  laws  of  his  tribe  has  all 
his  world — totems,  tabus,  earth,  sky  and  all — against  him.  He  cannot 
be  at  peace  with  God. 

The  position  of  the  hero  or  martyr  who  defies  his  tribe  for  the  sake 
of  what  he  thinks  the  truth  or  the  right  can  easily  be  thought  out  on 
these  lines.  If  you  take  the  tribe  as  merely  the  human  group  it  presents 
difficulties. 

See  Durkheim,  '  Les  Formes  elementaires  de  la  vie  religieuse,'  in 
Travaux  de  V Annie  Sociologique,  191 2  ;  or  G.  Davy,  'La  Sociologie 
de  M.  Durkheim,'  in  Rev.  Philosophique,  xxxvi,  pp.  42-71  and  160-85. 


I  SATURNIA  REGNA  21 

religions  that  have  existed  in  the  world  are  false  ?  Not 
so.  It  is  obvious  indeed  that  most,  if  analysed  into 
intellectual  behefs,  are  false ;  and  I  suppose  that 
a  thoroughly  orthodox  member  of  any  one  of  the 
million  religious  bodies  that  exist  in  the  world  must  be 
clear  in  his  mind  that  the  other  million  minus  one  are 
wrong,  if  not  wickedly  wrong.  That,  I  think,  we  m.ust 
be  clear  about.  Yet  the  fact  remains  that  man  must 
have  some  relation  towards  the  uncharted,  the  mys- 
terious, tracts  of  life  which  surround  him  on  every 
side.  And  for  my  own  part  I  am  content  to  say  that 
his  method  must  be  to  a  large  extent  very  much  what 
St.  Paul  calls  TTLCTTLs  or  faith  :  that  is,  some  attitude 
not  of  the  conscious  intellect  but  of  the  whole  being, 
using  all  its  powers  of  sensitiveness,  all  its  feeblest  and 
most  inarticulate  feelers  and  tentacles,  in  the  effort 
somehovv^  to  touch  by  these  that  which  cannot  be 
grasped  by  the  definite  senses  or  analysed  by  the 
conscious  reason.  What  we  gain  thus  is  an  insecure 
but  a  precious  possession.  We  gain  no  dogma,  at  least 
no  safe  dogma,  but  Vv-e  gain  much  more.  We  gain 
something  hard  to  define,  which  lies  at  the  heart  not 
only  of  religion,  but  of  art  and  poetry  and  all  the 
higher  strivings  of  human  emotion.  I  beheve  that 
at  times  vv'e  actually  gain  practical  guidance  in  some 
questions  Vv'here  experience  and  argument  fail.^     That 

1  I  suspect  that  most  reforms  pass  through  this  stage.  A  man 
somehow  feels  clear  that  some  new  course  is,  for  him,  right,  though 
he  cannot  marshal  the  arguments  convincingly  in  favour  of  it,  and 
may  even  admit  that  the  weight  of  obvious  evidence  is  on  the 
other  side.     We  read  of    judges    in  the    seventeenth    century  who 


22  SATURNIA  REGNA  i 

is  a  great  work  left  for  religion,  but  we  must  always 
remember  two  things  about  it :  first,  that  the  liability 
to  error  is  enormous,  indeed  almost  infinite;  and  second, 
that  the  results  of  confident  error  are  very  terrible. 
Probably  throughout  history  the  worst  things  ever 
done  in  the  world  on  a  large  scale  by  decent  people 
have  been  done  in  the  name  of  religion,  and  I  do  not 
think  that  has  entirely  ceased  to  be  true  at  the  present 
day.  All  the  Middle  Ages  held  the  strange  and,  to 
our  judgement,  the  obviously  insane  belief  that  the 
normal  result  of  religious  error  was  eternal  punishment. 
And  yet  by  the  crimes  to  which  that  false  belief  led 
them  they  almost  proved  the  truth  of  something  very 
like  it.  The  record  of  early  Christian  and  mediaeval 
persecutions  which  were  the  direct  result  of  that  one 
confident  religious  error  comes  curiously  near  to  one's 
conception  of  the  wickedness  of  the  damned. 

To  turn  to  our  immediate  subject,  I  wish  to  put 
forward  here  what  is  still  a  rather  new  and  unauthorized 
view  of  the  development  of  Greek  religion ;  readers  will 

believed  that  witches  ought  to  be  burned  and  that  the  persons  before 
them  were  witches,  and  yet  would  not  burn  them — evidently  under 
the  influence  of  vague  half-realized  feelings.  I  know  a  vegetarian 
who  thinks  that,  as  far  as  he  can  see,  carnivorous  habits  are  not  bad  for 
human  health  and  actually  tend  to  increase  the  happiness  of  the  species 
of  animals  eaten — as  the  adoption  of  Swift's  Modest  Proposal  would 
doubtless  relieve  the  economic  troubles  of  the  human  race,  and  yet 
feels  clear  that  for  him  the  ordinary  flesh  meal  (or  '  rejoicing  over 
corpses ')  would  '  partake  of  the  nature  of  sin '.  The  path  of  progress 
is  paved  with  inconsistencies,  though  it  would  be  an  error  to  imagine  that 
the  people  who  habitually  reject  any  higher  promptings  that  come  to 
them  are  really  any  more  consistent. 


I  SATURNIA  REGNA  25 

forgive  me  if,  in  treating  so  vast  a  subject,  I  draw  my 
outline  very  broadly,  leaving  out  many  qualifications, 
and  quoting  only  a  fragment  of  the  evidence. 

The  things  that  have  misled  us  moderns  in  our 
efforts  towards  understanding  the  primitive  stage  in 
Greek  religion,  have  been  first  the  widespread  and  almost 
ineradicable  error  of  treating  Homer  as  primitive,  and 
more  generally  our  unconscious  insistence  on  starting 
with  the  notion  of  '  Gods '.  Mr.  Hartland,  in  his 
address  as  president  of  one  of  the  sections  of  the  recent 
International  Congress  of  Religions  at  Oxford,^  dwelt 
on  the  significant  fact  about  savage  religions  that 
wherever  the  word  '  God  '  is  used  our  trustiest  witnesses 
tend  to  contradict  one  another.  Among  the  best 
observers  of  the  Arunta  tribes,  for  instance,  some  hold 
that  they  have  no  conception  of  God,  others  that  they 
are  constantly  thinking  about  God.  The  truth  is  that 
this  idea  of  a  god  far  away  in  the  sky — I  do  not  say 
merely  a  First  Cause  who  is  '  without  body  parts  or 
passions ',  but  almost  any  being  that  we  should  naturally 
call  a  '  god  ' — is  an  idea  not  easy  for  primitive  man  to 
grasp.  It  is  a  subtle  and  rarefied  idea,  saturated  with 
ages  of  philosophy  and  speculation.  And  we  must 
always  remember  that  one  of  the  chief  religions  of  the 
world,  Buddhism,  has  risen  to  great  moral  and  intellec- 
tual heights  without  using  the  conception  of  God  at  all ; 
in  his  stead  it  has  Dharma,  the  Eternal  Law." 

Apart  from  some  few  philosophers,  both  Christian 
and  Moslem,  the  gods  of  the  ordinary  man  have  as 

^  Transactions  of  the  Third  International  Congress  of  Religions,  Oxford, 
1908,  pp.  26-7.  2  q-jj^  Buddhist  Dharma,  hy  Mrs.  Rhys  Davids. 


24  SATURNIA  REGNA  i 

a  rule  been  as  a  matter  of  course  anthropomorphic. 
Men  did  not  take  the  trouble  to  try  to  conceive 
them  otherwise.  In  many  cases  they  have  had  the 
actual  bodily  shape  of  man  ;  in  almost  all  they  have 
possessed — of  course  in  their  highest  development — 
his  mind  and  reason  and  his  mental  attributes.  It 
causes  most  of  us  even  now  something  of  a  shock  to  be 
told  by  a  mediaeval  Arab  philosopher  that  to  call  God 
benevolent  or  righteous  or  to  predicate  of  him  any  other 
human  quality  is  just  as  Pagan  and  degraded  as  to  say 
that  he  has  a  beard.-^  Now  the  Greek  gods  seem  at 
first  sight  quite  particularly  solid  and  anthropomorphic. 
The  statues  and  vases  speak  clearly,  and  they  are  mostly 
borne  out  by  the  literature.  Of  course  we  must  dis- 
count the  kind  of  evidence  that  misled  Winckelmann, 
the  mere  Roman  and  Alexandrian  art  and  mythology; 
but  even  if  we  go  back  to  the  fifth  century  b.  c.  we  shall 
find  the  ruling  conceptions  far  nobler  indeed,  but  still 
anthropomorphic.  We  find  firmly  established  the 
Olympian  patriarchal  family,  Zeus  the  Father  of  gods 
and  men,  his  wife  Hera,  his  son  Apollo,  his  daughter 
Athena,  his  brothers  Poseidon  and  Hades,  and  the  rest. 
We  probably  think  of  each  figure  more  or  less  as  like 
a  statue,  a  habit  of  mind  obviously  wrong  and  indeed 
absurd,  as  if  one  thought  of  '  Labour  '  and  '  Grief  '  as 
statues  because  Rodin  or  St.  Gaudens  has  so  represented 
them.  And  yet  it  was  a  habit  into  which  the  late 
Greeks    themselves    sometimes    fell ;  ^     their    arts    of 

1  See  Die  Mutaxiliten,  oder  die  Freidenker  im  Islam,  von  H.  Steiner. 
1865. 

2  Cf.  E.  Reisch,  Entstehung  undWandel  griechischer  Goiter ges taken. 
Vienna,  1909. 


I  SATURNIA  REGNA  25 

sculpture  and  painting  as  applied  to  religion  had  been 
so  dangerously  successful :  they  sharpened  and  made 
vivid  an  anthropomorphism  which  in  its  origin  had 
been  mostly  the  result  of  normal  human  laziness.  The 
process  of  making  winds  and  rivers  into  anthropomor- 
phic gods  is,  for  the  most  part,  not  the  result  of  using 
the  imagination  with  special  vigour.  It  is  the  result  of 
not  doing  so.  The  wind  is  obviously  alive  ;  any  fool 
can  see  that.  Being  alive,  it  blows ;  how  ?  why, 
naturally  ;  just  as  you  and  I  blow.  It  knocks  things 
down,  it  shouts  and  dances,  it  whispers  and  talks. 
And,  unless  we  are  going  to  make  a  great  effort  of  the 
imagination  and  try  to  realize,  like  a  scientific  man, 
just  what  really  happens,  we  naturally  assume  that  it 
does  these  things  in  the  normal  way,  in  the  only  way 
we  know.  Even  when  you  worship  a  beast  or  a  stone, 
you  practically  anthropomorphize  it.  It  happens  in- 
deed to  have  a  perfectly  clear  shape,  so  you  accept 
that.  But  it  talks,  acts,  and  fights  just  like  a  man — as 
you  can  see  from  the  Australian  Folk  Tales  published 
by  Mrs.  Langloh  Parker — because  you  do  not  take 
the  trouble  to  think  out  any  other  way  of  behaving. 
This  kind  of  anthropomorphism — or  as  Mr.  Gladstone 
used  to  call  it,  ^  anthropophuism  ' — '  humanity  of 
nature ' — is  primitive  and  inevitable  :  the  sharp-cut 
statue  type  of  god  is  different,  and  is  due  in  Greece 
directly  to  the  vv^ork  of  the  artists. 

We  must  get  back  behind  these  gods  of  the  artist's 
workshop  and  the  romance-maker's  imagination,  and 
see  if  the  religious  thinkers  of  the  great  period  use,  or 
imply,  the  same  highly  human  conceptions.  We  shall 
find  Parmenides  telling  us  that  God  is  One,  and  coin- 


26  SATURNIA  REGNA  i 

cides  with  the  universe,  which  is  a  sphere  and  immov- 
able ;  ^  Xenophanes,  that  God  is  all-seeing,  all-hearing, 
and  all  mind  ;  ^  and  as  for  his  supposed  human  shape, 
why,  if  bulls  and  lions  were  to  speak  about  God  they 
would  doubtless  tell  us  that  he  was  a  bull  or  a  lion.^ 
We  must  notice  the  instinctive  language  of  the  poets, 
using  the  word  6e6<;  in  many  subtle  senses  for  which 
our  word  '  God  '  is  too  stiff,  too  personal,  and  too 
anthropomorphic.  To  evrv^elv^  '  the  fact  of  success,' 
is  a  god  and  more  than  a  god  ;  to  yiyvcocrKeiv  ^i\ov^, 
'  to  recognize  a  friend'  after  long  absence,  is  a  'god' ; 
wine  is  a  '  god  '  whose  body  is  poured  out  in  libation  to 
gods ;  and  in  the  unwritten  law  of  the  human  con- 
science '  a  great  god  liveth  and  groweth  not  old  '.^ 
You  will  say  that  is  mere  poetry  or  philosophy  :  it 
represents  a  particular  theory  or  a  particular  metaphor. 
I  think  not.  Language  of  this  sort  is  used  widely  and 
without  any  explanation  or  apology.  It  was  evidently 
understood  and  felt  to  be  natural  by  the  audience.  If 
it  is  metaphorical,  all  metaphors  have  grown  from  the 

1  Parm.  Fr.  8,  3-7  (DIeh  2). 

2  Xen.  Fr.  24(Diels2).  3  Xen.  Fr    15. 

4  Aesch.   Cho.  60;    Eur.  Hel.  560;    Bac.  284;    Soph.  O.T.  871. 
Cf.  also  7]  (fif)6vr](TL<i  ayaOrj  Oebs  fxlyaq.     Soph.  Fr.  836,  2  (Nauck). 
6  ttAoCtos  Tois  (Tocjioi<i  Ocos.    Eur.  Cyd.  316. 
6  vov<;  yap  rjfx<Zv  iamv  iv  iKoicrTii)  Oeos.     Eur.  Fr.  10 J 8. 
<f>06vo<;  KOLKicrTo^  KaStK(jjTaT09  Oeos.     Hippothoon  Fr.  2. 
A  certain  moment  of  time  .  .  . 

^PXV  '^^^  ^^os  iv  avOpwTTOL^  iSpv/jievr]  o-oj^et  iravra. 

PL  Leg.  jjs  E. 
TO.  fxuipa  yap  ttolvt  i(Trlv  'A<^poStr>;  fSpoTols.     Eur.  Tro.  989. 
rjXOev  Se  8ats  OdXua  Trpccr/SicrTr]  Oeojy.      Soph.  Fr.  548. 


I  SATURNIA  REGNA  27 

soil  of  current  thought  and  normal  experience.  And 
without  going  into  the  point  at  length  I  think  we  may 
safely  conclude  that  the  soil  from  which  such  language 
as  this  grew  was  not  any  system  of  clear-cut  personal 
anthropomorphic  theology.  No  doubt  any  of  these 
poets,  if  he  had  to  make  a  picture  of  one  of  these 
utterly  formless  Gods,  would  have  given  him  a  human 
form.  That  was  the  recognized  symbol,  as  a  veiled 
woman  is  St.  Gaudens's  symbol  for  '  Grief  '. 

But  we  have  other  evidence  too  which  shows  abun- 
dantly that  these  Olympian  gods  are  not  primary,  but 
are  imposed  upon  a  background  strangely  unlike  them- 
selves. For  a  long  time  their  luminous  figures  dazzled 
our  eyes  ;  we  were  not  able  to  see  the  half-lit  regions 
behind  them,  the  dark  primaeval  tangle  of  desires  and 
fears  and  dreams  from  which  they  drew  their  vitality. 
The  surest  test  to  apply  in  this  question  is  the  evidence 
of  actual  cult.  Miss  Harrison  has  here  shown  us  the 
right  method,  and  following  her  we  will  begin  with 
the  three  great  festivals  of  Athens,  the  Diasia,  the  j 
Thesmophoria,  and  the  Anthesteria.^  -^/ 

The  Diasia  was  said  to  be  the  chief  festival  of  Zeus,  / 
the  central  figure  of  the  Olympians,  though  our 
authorities  generally  add  an  epithet  to  him,  and  call 
him  Zeus  Meilichios,  Zeus  of  Placation.  A  god 
with  an  '  epithet '  is  always  suspicious,  like  a  human 
being  with  an  '  alias  '.     Miss  Harrison's  examination 

^  See  J.  E.  Harrison,  Prolegomena,  i.  ii,  iv  ;  Mommsen,  Feste  der 
StadtJthen,  1898,  pp.  308-22  (Thesmophoria),  384-404  (Anthesteria), 
f2i-6  (Diasia).     See  also  Pauly-Wissowa,  s.v. 


28  SATURNIA  REGNA  i 

{Prolegomena^  pp.  28  ff.)  shows  that  in  the  rites  Zeus 
has  no  place  at  all.  Meilichios  from  the  beginning  has 
a  fairly  secure  one.  On  some  of  the  reliefs  Meilichios 
appears  not  as  a  god,  but  as  an  enormous  bearded 
snake,  a  well-known  representation  of  underworld 
powers  or  dead  ancestors.  Sometimes  the  great  snake 
is  alone  ;  sometimes  he  rises  gigantic  above  the  small 
human  worshippers  approaching  him.  And  then,  in 
certain  reliefs,  his  old  barbaric  presence  vanishes,  and 
we  have  instead  a  benevolent  and  human  father  of  gods 
and  men,  trying,  as  Miss  Harrison  somewhere  expresses 
it,  to  look  as  if  he  had  been  there  all  the  time. 

There  was  a  sacrifice  at  the  Diasia,  but  it  was  not  a 
sacrifice  given  to  Zeus.  To  Zeus  and  all  the  heavenly 
gods  men  gave  sacrifice  in  the  form  of  a  feast,  in  which 
the  god  had  his  portion  and  the  worshippers  theirs. 
The  two  parties  cemented  their  friendship  and  feasted 
happily  together.  But  the  sacrifice  at  the  Diasia  was 
a  holocaust  :  ^  every  shred  of  the  victim  was  burnt  to 
ashes,  that  no  man  might  partake  of  it.  We  know 
quite  well  the  meaning  of  that  form  of  sacrifice  :  it 
is  a  sacrifice  to  placate  or  appease  the  powers  below, 
the  Chthonioi,  the  dead  and  the  lords  of  death.  It 
was  performed,  as  our  authorities  tell  us,  /xera  crrvyvo- 
Tr)To<;,  with  shuddering  or  repulsion." 

The  Diasia  was  a  ritual  of  placation,  that  is,  of  casting 
away  various  elements  of  pollution  or  danger  and 
appeasing  the  unknown  wraths  of  the  surrounding 
darkness.     The  nearest  approach  to  a  god  contained 

^  Prolegomena,  p.  15  f. 

2  Luc.  Icaro-Menifpos  24  schol.  ad  loc. 


I  SATURNIA  REGNA  29 

in  this  festival  is  Meilichios,  and  Meilichios,  as  we  shall 
see  later,  belongs  to  a  particular  class  of  shadowy  beings 
wh.0  are  built  up  out  of  ritual  services.  His  name  means 
'  He  of  appeasement  \  and  he  is  nothing  else.  He  is 
merely  the  personified  shadow  or  dream  generated 
by  the  emotion  of  the  ritual — very  much,  to  take  a 
familiar  instance,  as  Father  Christmas  is  a  '  projection  ' 
of  our  Christmas  customs. 

The  Thesmophoria  formed  the  great  festival  of 
Demeter  and  her  daughter  Kore,  though  here  again 
Demeter  appears  with  a  clinging  epithet,  Thesmo- 
phoros.  We  know  pretty  clearly  the  whole  course  of 
the  ritual  :  there  is  the  carrying  by  women  of  certain 
magic  charms,  fir-cones  and  snakes  and  unnameable 
objects  made  of  paste,  to  ensure  fertility  ;  there  is 
a  sacrifice  of  pigs,  who  were  thrown  into  a  deep  cleft 
of  the  earth,  and  their  remains  afterwards  collected 
and  scattered  as  a  charm  over  the  fields.  There  is 
more  magic  ritual,  more  carrying  of  sacred  objects, 
a  fast  followed  by  a  rejoicing,  a  disappearance  of  life 
below  the  earth,  and  a  rising  again  of  life  above  it ; 
but  it  is  hard  to  find  definite  traces  of  any  personal 
goddess.  The  Olympian  Demeter  and  Persephone 
dwindle  away  as  we  look  closer,  and  we  are  left  with 
the  shadow  Thesmophoros,  '  She  who  carries  Jhesmoi^''  ^ 

^  Frequently  dual,  rw  &earfjiocf)6p(x),  under  the  influence  of  the 
'Mother  and  Maiden'  idea:  Dittenberger  Inscr.  Sylloge  628,  Ar. 
Thesm.  84,  296  et  passim.  The  plural  at  ©ea-ixocjiopoi  used  in  late 
Greek  is  not,  as  one  might  imagine,  a  projection  from  the  whole 
band  of  worshippers ;  it  is  merely  due  to  the  disappearance  of  the 


30  SATURNIA  REGNA  i 

not  a  substantive  personal  goddess,  but  merely  a 
personification  of  the  ritual  itself  :  an  imaginary 
charm-bearer  generated  by  so  much  Charm-bearing, 
just  as  Meilichios  in  the  Diasia  was  generated  from 
the  ritual  of  x4ppeasement. 

Now  the  Diasia  were  dominated  by  a  sacred  snake. 
Is  there  any  similar  divine  animal  in  the  Thesmophoria? 
Alas,  yes.  Both  here,  and  still  more  markedly  in  the 
mysteries  of  Demeter  and  Persephone  at  Eleusis,  we 
regularly  find  the  most  lovely  of  all  goddesses,  Demeter 
and  Persephone,  habitually — I  will  not  say  represented 
by,  but  dangerously  associated  with,  a  sacred  Sow. 
A  Pig  is  the  one  animal  in  Greek  religion  that  actually 
had  sacrifice  made  to  it.^ 

The  third  feast,  the  Anthesteria,  belongs  in  classical 
times  to  the  Olympian  Dionysus,  and  is  said  to  be  the 
oldest  of  his  feasts.  On  the  surface  there  is  a  touch  of 
the  wine-god,  and  he  is  given  due  official  prominence ; 
but  as  soon  as  we  penetrate  anywhere  near  the  heart  of 
the  festival,  Dionysus  and  his  brother  gods  are  quite 
forgotten,  and  all  that  remains  is  a  great  ritual  for 
appeasing  the  dead.  All  the  days  of  the  Feast  were 
nefasti,  of  ill  omen  ;    the  first  day  especially  was  e?  to 

Dual  from  Greek.  I  accept  provisionally  the  derivation  of  these 
Oea-fiOL  from  Oecr  in  Oea-craa-Oat,  ^e(r</)aT09,  ^eV/ceAos,  7roXv6€(TTo<;,  airo- 
9€(rTo<s,  &c. :  cf.  A.  W.  Verrall  in  J.  ^.  5.  xx,  p.  1 14  ;  and  Prolegomena, 
pp.  48  ff.,  136  f.  But,  whatever  the  derivation,  the  Thesmoi  were 
the  objects  carried. 

1  Frazer,  Golden  Bough,  ii.  44  ff.  ;  A.  B.  Cook,  J.  H.  S.  xiv,  pp.  153- 
4  ;  J.  E.  Harrison,  Themis,  p.  5.  See  also  A.  Lang,  Homeric  Hymns, 
1899,  p.  63. 


I  SATURNIA  REGNA  51 

TTOLv  d7ro(f)pd<;.     On  it  the  Wine  Jars  which  were  also 
Seed  and  Funeral  Jars  were  opened  and  the  spirits  of 
the  Dead  let  loose  in  the  world.^     Nameless  and  in- 
numerable,  the  ghosts   are   summoned   out    of    their 
tombs,    and   are    duly   feasted,    each    man    summon- 
ing his  own  ghosts  to  his  own  house,  and  carefully 
abstaining  from  any  act  that  would  affect  his  neigh- 
bours.    And  then,  when  they  are  properly  appeased 
and  made  gentle,  they  are  swept  back  again  out  of  this 
world  to  the  place  where  they  properly  belong,  and 
the  streets  and  houses  cleaned  from  the  presence  of 
death.     There  is  one  central  stage  indeed  in  which 
Dionysus  does  seem  to  appear.     And  he  appears  in 
a  very  significant  way,  to  conduct  a  Sacred  Marriage. 
For,  why  do  you  suppose  the  dead  are  summoned  at 
all  ?     What  use  to  the  tribe  is  the  presence  of  all  these 
dead  ancestors  ?    They  have  come,  I  suspect,  to  be 
born  again,  to  begin  a  new  life  at  the  great  Spring 
festival.     For  the  new  births  of  the  tribe,  the  new 
crops,  the  new  kids,  the  new  human  beings,  are  of 
course  really  only  the  old  ones  returned  to  earth.^ 
The  important  thing  is  to  get  them  properly  placated 
and  purified,  free  from  the  contagion  of  ancient  sin  or 
underworld  anger.     For  nothing  is  so  dangerous  as  the 
presence  of  what  I  may  call  raw  ghosts.     The  Anthes- 
teria  contained,  like  other  feasts  of  the  kind,  a  lepo^ 
ydiJLo<;,  or   Holy   Marriage,  between  the  wife  of   the 

1  Feste  der  Stadt  A  then,  p.  390  f.  On  Seed  Jars,  Wine  Jars  and 
Funeral  Jars,  see  Themis,  pp.  276-88,  and  Warde  Fowler,  Mundus 
Patet,  in  Journ.  Roman  Studies,  ii.  p.  25  if.     Cf.  below,  p.  43  f- 

2  Dieterich,  Muttererde,  1905,  p.  48  f. 


52  SATURNIA  REGNA  i 

Basileus  or  Sacred  King,  and  the  imaginary  god.^ 
Whatever  reality  there  ever  was  in  the  ceremony  has 
apparently  by  classical  times  faded  away.  But  the 
place  where  the  god  received  his  bride  is  curious.  It 
was  called  the  Boukolion,  or  Bull's  Shed.  It  was  not 
originally  the  home  of  an  anthropomorphic  god,  but 
of  a  divine  animal. 

Thus  in  each  of  these  great  festivals  we  find  that  the 
Olympian  gods  vanish  away,  and  we  are  left  with  three 
things  only  :  first,  with  an  atmosphere  of  religious  fear ; 
second,  with  a  whole  sequence  of  magical  ceremonies 
which,  in  two  at  least  of  the  three  cases,^  produce 
a  kind  of  strange  personal  emanation  of  themselves, 

^  Dr.  Frazer,  The  Magic  Art,  ii.  137,  thinks  it  not  certain  that  the 
ya/xos  took  place  during  the  Anthesteria,  at  the  same  time  as  the  oath 
of  the  yepaipat.  Without  the  yd/xos,  however,  it  is  hard  to  see  what 
the  padiXLvva  and  yepatpal  had  to  do  in  the  festival ;  and  this  is  the 
view  of  Mommsen,  Feste  der  Stadt  Athen,  pp.  391-3  ;  Gruppe  in  Iwan 
Miiller,  Mythologie  und  Religionsgeschichte,  i.  33  ;  Farnell,  Cults,  v.  217. 

2  One  might  perhaps  say,  in  all  three.  'KvOia-Trjpos  tov  livOoxprjo-'^^^ 
KOLvov  is  the  name  of  a  society  of  worshippers  in  the  island  of  Thera, 
/.  G.  /.  iii.  329.  This  gives  a  god  Anthister,  who  is  clearly  identified 
with  Dionysus,  and  seems  to  be  a  projection  of  a  feast  Anthisteria  = 
Anthesteria.  The  inscription  is  of  the  second  century  e.g.  and  it  seems 
likely  that  Anthister-Anthisteria,  with  their  clear  derivation  from 
avBit,€.iv,  are  corruptions  of  the  earlier  and  difficult  forms  'ArOea-Trjp- 
' AvOea-Tijpia.  It  is  noteworthy  that  Thera,  an  island  lying  rather 
outside  the  main  channels  of  civilization,  kept  up  throughout  its  history 
a  tendency  to  treat  the  '  epithet '  as  a  full  person.  Hikesios  and 
Koures  come  very  early  ;  also  Polieus  and  Stoichaios  without  the  name 
Zeus ;   Delphinios,  Karneios,  Aiglatas,  and  Aguieus  without  Apollo. 

See  Hiller  von  Gaertringen  in  the  Festschrift  filr  O.  Benndorff, 
p.  228.     Also  Nilsson,  Griechische  Feste,  1906,  p.  267,  n.  5. 


SATURNIA  REGNA 


55 


the  Appeasements  producing  Meilichios,  the  Charm- 
bearings  Thesmophoros  ;  and  thirdly,  with  a  divine  or 
sacred  animah  In  the  Diasia  we  find  the  old  super- 
human snake,  who  reappears  so  ubiquitously  throughout 
Greece,  the  regular  symbol  of  the  underworld  powers, 
especially  the  hero  or  dead  ancestor.  Why  the  snake 
was  so  chosen  we  can  only  surmise.  He  obviously  lived 
underground  :  his  home  was  among  the  Chthonioi,  the 
Earth-People.  Also,  says  the  Scholiast  to  Aristophanes 
(Plut.  555),  he  was  a  type  of  new  birth  because  he 
throws  off  his  old  skin  and  renews  himself.  And  if  that 
in  itself  is  not  enough  to  show  his  supernatural  power, 
what  normal  earthly  being  could  send  his  enemies  to 
death  by  one  little  pin-prick,  as  some  snakes  can  ? 

In  the  Thesmophoria  we  found  sacred  swine,  and  the 
reason  given  by  the  ancients  is  no  doubt  the  right  one. 
The  sow  is  sacred  because  of  its  fertility,  and  possibly 
as  practical  people  we  should  add,  because  of  its  cheap- 
ness. Swine  are  always  prominent  in  Greek  agricul- 
tural rites.  And  the  bull  ?  Well,  we  modern  town- 
dwellers  have  almost  forgotten  what  a  real  bull  is  like. 
For  so  many  centuries  we  have  tamed  him  and  penned 
him  in,  and  utterly  deposed  him  from  his  place  as  lord 
of  the  forest.  The  bull  was  the  chief  of  magic  or 
sacred  animals  in  Greece,  chief  because  of  his  enormous 
strength,  his  rage,  in  fine  his  maria^  as  anthropologists 
call  it ;  that  fine  primitive  word  which  comprises  force, 
vitality,  prestige,  holiness,  and  power  of  magic,  and 
which  may  belong  equally  to  a  lion,  a  chief,  a  medicine- 
man, or  a  battle-axe. 

Now  in  the  art  and  the  hand-books  these  sacred 

p.  p.  648  c 


54 


SATURNIA  REGNA 


animals  have  all  been  adopted  into  the  Olympian 
system.  They  appear  regularly  as  the  '  attributes '  of 
particular  gods.  Zeus  is  merely  accompanied  by  a  snake, 
an  eagle,  a  bull,  or  at  worst  assumes  for  his  private  pur- 
poses the  forms  of  those  animals.  The  cow  and  the 
cuckoo  are  sacred  to  Hera ;  the  owl  and  the  snake  to 
Athena  ;  the  dolphin,  the  crow,  the  lizard,  the  bull,  to 
Apollo.  Dionysus,  always  like  a  wilder  and  less  middle- 
aged  Zeus,  appears  freely  as  a  snake,  bull,  he-goat,  and 
lion.  Allowing  for  some  isolated  exceptions,  the  safest 
.  rule  in  all  these  cases  is  that  the  attribute  is  original  and 
/  the  god  is  added. ^  It  comes  out  very  clearly  in  the 
case  of  the  snake  and  the  bull.  The  tremendous  mana 
of  the  wild  bull  indeed  occupies  almost  half  the  stage 
of  pre-Olympian  ritual.  The  religion  unearthed  by 
Dr.  Evans  in  Crete  is  permeated  by  the  bull  of  Minos. 
The  heads  and  horns  are  in  almost  every  sacred  room 
and  on  every  altar.  The  great  religious  scene  depicted 
on  the  sarcophagus  of  Hagia  Triada  ^  centres  in  the 
holy  blood  that  flows  from  the  neck  of  a  captive  and 
dying  bull.  Down  into  classical  times  bull's  blood 
was  a  sacred  thing  which  it  was  dangerous  to  touch  and 
death  to  taste  :  to  drink  a  cup  of  it  was  the  most  heroic 
form  of  suicide.^     The  sacrificial  bull  at  Delphi  was 

^  Miss  Harrison,  '  Bird  and  Pillar  Worship  in  relation  to  Ouranian 
Divinities,'  transactions  of  the  Third  International  Congress  for  the 
History  of  Religion,  Oxford,  1908,  vol.  ii,  p.  154  ;  Farnell,  Greece  and 
Babylon,  191 1,  pp.  66  ff. 

2  First  published  by  R.  Paribeni,  '  II  Sarcofago  dipinto  di  Hagia 
Triada,'  in  Monumenti  antichi  della  R.  Accademia  dei  Lincei,  xix, 
1908,  p.  6,  T.  i-iii.    See  also  Themis,  pp.  158  ff. 

3  Ar.Equites,  82-4 — or  possibly  of  apotheosis.    See  Themis,  p.  154,  n.  2. 


I  SATURNIA  REGNA  35 

called  Hosioter  :  he  was  not  merely  hosios,  holy ;  he  ) 
was  Hosioter,  the  Sanctifier,  He  who  maketh  Holy.  It 
was  by  contact  with  him  that  holiness  was  spread  to 
others.  On  a  coin  and  a  vase,  cited  by  Miss  Harrison/ 
we  have  a  bull  entering  a  holy  cave  and  a  bull  standing 
in  a  shrine.  We  have  holy  pillars  whose  holiness  con- 
sists in  the  fact  that  they  have  been  touched  with  the 
blood  of  a  bull.  We  have  a  long  record  of  a  bull-ritual 
at  Magnesia,"  in  which  Zeus,  though  he  makes  a  kind  of 
external  claim  to  be  lord  of  the  feast,  dare  not  claim  that 
the  bull  is  sacrificed  to  him.  Zeus  has  a  ram  to  himself 
and  stands  apart,  showing  but  a  weak  and  shadowy 
figure  beside  the  original  Holy  One.  We  have  immense 
masses  of  evidence  about  the  religion  of  Mithras,  at 
one  time  the  most  serious  rival  of  Christianity,  which 
sought  its  hope  and  its  salvation  in  the  blood  of  a  divine 
bull. 

Now  what  is  the  origin  of  this  conception  of  the 
sacred  animal  ?  The  origin  was  discovered  and  ex- 
plained with  almost  prophetic  insight  by  Dr.  Robertson 
Smith.^  The  origin  is  what  he  calls  a  sacramental 
feast  :  you  eat  the  flesh  and  drink  the  blood  of  the 
divine  animal  in  order — here  I  diverge  from  Robertson  TX 
Smith's  language — to  get  into  you  his  mana,  his 
vital  power.  The  classical  instance  is  the  sacramental 
eating  of  a  camel  by  an  Arab  tribe,  recorded  in  the 

^  Themis,  p.  145,  fig.  25  ;   and  p.  152,  fig.  28  b. 

^  O.  Kern,  Inschriften  v.  Magnesia,  No.  98,  discussed  by  O.  Kern, 
Arch.  Anz,.  1894,  p.  78,  and  Nilsson,  Griechische  Teste,  p.  23. 

3  Religion  of  the  Semites,  1901,  p.  338  ;  Reuterskiold,  in  Archiv  f. 
Relig.  XV.  1-23. 

C  2 


/ 


56  SATURNIA  REGNA  i 

works  of  St.  Nilus.^  The  camel  was  devoured  on 
a  particular  day  at  the  rising  of  the  morning  star.  He 
was  cut  to  pieces  alive,  and  every  fragment  of  him  had 
to  be  consumed  before  the  sun  rose.  If  the  life  had 
once  gone  out  of  the  flesh  and  blood  the  sacrifice  would 
have  been  spoilt ;  it  was  the  spirit,  the  vitality,  of  the 
camel  that  his  tribesmen  wanted.  The  only  serious 
error  that  later  students  have  found  in  Robertson 
Smith's  statement  is  that  he  spoke  too  definitely  of 
the  sacrifice  as  affording  communion  with  the  tribal 
god.  There  was  no  god  there,  only  the  raw  material 
out  of  which  gods  are  made.  You  devoured  the  holy 
animal  to  get  its  mana,  its  swiftness,  its  strength,  its 
great  endurance,  just  as  the  savage  now  will  eat  his 
enemy's  brain  or  heart  or  hands  to  get  some  particular 
quality  residing  there.  The  imagination  of  the  pre- 
Hellenic  tribes  was  evidently  dominated  above  all 
things  by  the  bull,  though  there  were  other  sacramental 
feasts  too,  combined  with  sundry  horrible  rendings 
and  drinkings  of  raw  blood.  It  is  strange  to  think  that 
even  small  things  like  kids  and  fawns  and  hares  should 
have  struck  primitive  man  as  having  some  uncanny 
vitality  which  he  longed  for,  or  at  least  some  uncanny 
power  over  the  weather  or  the  crops.  Yet  to  him  it 
no  doubt  appeared  obvious.  Frogs,  for  instance,  could 
always  bring  rain  by  croaking  for  it. 

Here  comes  a  difficulty.  If  the  Olympian  god  was 
not  there  to  start  with,  how  did  he  originate  ?  We  can 
understand — at  least  after  a  course  of  anthropology — 

1  Nili  Opera,  Narrat.  iii.  28. 


I  SATURNIA  REGNA  57 

this  desire  of  primitive  man  to  acquire  for  himself  the  //. 
superhuman  forces  of  the  bull ;  but  how  does  he  make  • 
the  transition  from  the  real  animal  to  the  imaginary 
human  god  ?  First  let  us  remember  the  innate  ten- 
dency of  primitive  man  everywhere,  and  not  especially 
in  Greece,  to  imagine  a  personal  cause,  like  himself  in 
all  points  not  otherwise  specified,  for  every  striking 
phenomenon.  If  the  wind  blows  it  is  because  some 
being  more  or  less  human,  though  of  course  super- 
human, is  blowing  wdth  his  cheeks.  If  a  tree  is  struck 
by  lightning  it  is  because  some  one  has  thrown  his 
battle-axe  at  it.  In  some  Australian  tribes  there  is  no 
belief  in  natural  death.  If  a  man  dies  it  is  because 
'  bad  man  kill  that  fellow  '.  St.  Paul,  we  may  remem- 
ber, passionately  summoned  the  heathen  to  refrain 
from  worshipping  r-qv  ktlctlv,  the  creation,  and  go  back 
to  TOP  KTLcravTa,  the  creator,  human  and  masculine.  It 
was  as  a  rule  a  road  that  they  were  only  too  ready 
to  travel. 

But  this  tendency  was  helped  by  a  second  factor. 
Research  has  shown  us  the  existence  in  early  Mediter-     I 
ranean  religion  of  a  peculiar  transitional  step,  a  man 
wearing    the    head   or    skin    of   a   holy   beast.       The     , 
Egyptian  gods  are  depicted  as  men  with  beasts'  heads : 
that  is,  the  best  authorities  tell  us,  their  shapes  are 
derived  from    the    kings   and    priests    who    on    great  ^ 
occasions  of  sacrifice  covered  their  heads  with  a  beast-  v 
mask.^     Minos,  with  his  projection  the  Minotaur,  was 

1  Lang,  Myth,  Ritual,  and  Religion,  igo6,u.2S^;  ibid.  130;  Moret, 
Caractere  religieux  de  la  Monarchie  Egy-ptienne  ;  Dieterich,  Mithras- 
liturgie,  1903. 


58  SATURNIA  REGNA  i 

a  bull-god  and  wore  a  bull-mask.  From  early  Island 
gems,  from  a  fresco  at  Mycenae,  from  Assyrian  reliefs, 
Mr.  A.  B.  Cook  has  collected  many  examples  of  this 
mixed  figure — a  man  wearing  the  protome,  or  mask  and 
mane,  of  a  beast.  Sometimes  we  can  actually  see  him 
offering  libations.  Sometimes  the  worshipper  has 
become  so  closely  identified  with  his  divine  beast 
that  he  is  represented  not  as  a  mere  man  wearing  the 
frotome  of  a  lion  or  bull,  but  actually  as  a  lion  or  bull 
wearing  the  protome  of  another.^  Hera,  (Bocottls,  with 
a  cow^'s  head  ;  Athena,  yXavAcwTrt?,  with  an  owl's  head, 
or  bearing  on  her  breast  the  head  of  the  Gorgon  ; 
Heracles  clad  in  a  lion's  skin  and  covering  his  brow  Seti^w 
-^do-fxaTL  Orjpo^,  '  with  the  awful  spread  jaws  of  the  wild 
beast,'  belong  to  the  same  class.  So  does  the  Dadouchos 
at  Eleusis  and  other  initiators  who  let  candidates  for 
purification  set  one  foot — one  only  and  that  the  left — 
on  the  skin  of  a  sacrificial  ram,  and  called  the  skin  Ato? 
/cwag,  the  fleece  not  of  a  ram,  but  of  Zeus.^ 

The  mana  of  the  slain  beast  is  in  the  hide  and  head 
and  blood  and  fur,  and  the  man  who  wants  to  be  in 
thorough  contact  with  the  divinity  gets  inside  the  skin 
and  wraps  himself  deep  in  it.  He  begins  by  being 
a  man  wearing  a  lion's  skin  :  he  ends,  as  we  have  seen, 
by  feeling  himself  to  be  a  lion  wearing  a  lion's  skin. 
And  who  is  this  man  ?    He  may  on  particular  occasions 

1  A.  B.  Cook  in  J.  H.  S.  1894,  '  Animal  Worship  in  the  Mycenaean 
Age.'  See  also  Hogarth  on  the  '  Zakro  Seaiings ',  J.  H.  S.  1902  ;  these 
seals  show  a  riot  of  fancy  in  the  way  of  mixed  monsters,  starting  in  all 
probability  from  the  simpler  form.  See  the  quotation  from  Robertson 
Smith  in  Hogarth,  p.  91.  ^  p^^^g  ^^^  Stadt  J  then,  p.  416. 


I  SATURNIA  REGNA  59 

be  only  a  candidate  for  purification  or  initiation. 
But  par  excellence  he  who  has  the  right  is  the  priest,  the 
medicine-man,  the  divine  king.  If  an  old  suggestion 
of  my  own  is  right,  he  is  the  original  (9t09  or  Oecro^y  the 
incarnate  medicine  or  spell  or  magic  power.^  He  at 
first,  I  suspect,  is  the  only  ^€09  or  '  God  '  that  his  ; . 
society  knows.  We  commonly  speak  of  ancient  kings  // 
being  '  deified  '  ;  we  regard  the  process  as  due  to  an  // 
outburst  of  superstition  or  insane  flattery.  And  so  no  / 
doubt  it  sometimes  was,  especially  in  later  times — when 
man  and  god  were  felt  as  two  utterly  distinct  things. 
But  '  deification  '  is  an  unintelligent  and  misleading 
word.  What  w^e  call  '  deification  '  is  only  the  survival 
of  this  undifferentiated  human  ^eo9,  with  his  mana^  his 
Kpdroq  and  ^la,  his  control  of  the  weather,  the  rain  and 
the  thunder,  the  spring  crops  and  the  autumn  floods  ; 
his  knowledge  of  what  was  lawful  and  what  was  not,  and 
his  innate  power  to  curse  or  to  '  make  dead  '.  Recent 
researchers  have  shown  us  in  abundance  the  early 
Greek  medicine-chiefs  making  thunder  and  lightning 
and  rain."^  We  have  long  known  the  king  as  possessor 
of  Dike  and  Themis,  of  justice  and  tribal  custom  ;  we 
have  known  his  effect  on  the  fertility  of  the  fields  and 
the  tribes,  and  the  terrible  results  of  a  king's  sin  or  a 
king's  sickness.^ 

What  is  the  subsequent  history  of  this  medicine- 

1  Anthropology  and  the  Classics,  1908,  pp.  jj,  78. 

2  A.  B.  Cook,  Class.  Rev.  xvii,  pp.  275  ff. ;  A.  J.  Reinach, Rev.  de  I' Hist, 
des  Religions,  Ix,  p.  178  ;   S.  Reinach,  Cultes,  Mythes,  iffc,  ii.  160-66. 

^  One  may  suggest  in  passing   that   this   explains   the   enormous 
families  attributed  to  many  sacred  kings  of  Greek  legend  :  why  Priam 


/ 


40  SATURNIA  REGNA  i 

chief  or  de6<;  ?  He  is  differentiated,  as  it  were  :  the 
visible  part  of  him  becomes  merely  human  ;  the  sup- 
posed supernatural  part  grows  into  what  we  should 
call  a  God.  The  process  is  simple.  Any  particular 
medicine-man  is  bound  to  have  his  failures.  As 
Dr.  Frazer  gently  reminds  us,  every  single  pretension 
which  he  puts  forth  on  every  day  of  his  life  is  a  lie,  and 
liable  sooner  or  later  to  be  found  out.  Doubtless  men 
are  tender  to  their  own  delusions.  They  do  not  at  once 
condemn  the  medicine-chief  as  a  fraudulent  institution, 
but  they  tend  gradually  to  say  that  he  is  not  the 
real  all-powerful  deos*  He  is  only  his  representative. 
The  real  6e6q,  tremendous,  infallible,  is  somewhere  far 
away,  hidden  in  clouds  perhaps,  on  the  summit  of  some 
inaccessible  mountain.  If  the  mountain  is  once  climbed 
the  god  will  move  to  the  upper  sky.  The  medicine- 
chief  meanwhile  stays  on  earth,  still  influential.  He 
has  some  connexion  with  the  great  god  more  intimate 
than  that  of  other  men  ;  at  worst  he  possesses  the  god's 
sacred  instruments,  his  lepd  or  opyua  ;  he  knows  the 
rules  for  approaching  him  and  making  prayers  to  him. 
There  is  therefore  a  path  open  from  the  divine 
beast  to  the  anthropomorphic  god.  From  beings  like 
Thesmophoros  and  Meilichios  the  road  is  of  course 
much  easier.  They  are  already  more  than  half  anthro- 
pomorphic ;  they  only  lack  the  concreteness,  the  lucid 
shape  and  the  detailed  personal  history  of  the  Olym- 

or  Danaus  have  their  fifty  children,  and  Heracles,  most  prolific  of  all, 
his  several  hundred.  The  particular  numbers  chosen,  how^ever,  are 
probably  due  to  other  causes,  e.g.  the  fifty  moon-months  of  the 
Penteteris. 


I  SATURNIA  REGNA  41 

plans.  In  this  connexion  we  must  not  forget  the 
power  of  hallucination,  still  fairly  strong,  as  the  history 
of  religious  revivals  in  America  will  bear  witness,^ 
but  far  stronger,  of  course,  among  the  impressionable 
hordes  of  early  men.  '  The  god  ',  says  M.  Doutte  in  his 
profound  study  of  Algerian  magic,  '  c'est  le  desir^^" 
collectif  personnifie,'  the  collective  desire  projected,  ; 
as  it  were,  or  personified.^  Think  of  the  gods  who  have 
appeared  in  great  crises  of  battle,  created  sometimes 
by  the  desperate  desire  of  men  who  have  for  years 
prayed  to  them,  and  who  are  now  at  the  last  extremity 
for  lack  of  their  aid,  sometimes  by  the  confused  and 
excited  remembrances  of  the  survivors  after  the  victory. 
The  gods  who  led  the  Roman  charge  at  Lake  Regillus,^ 
the  gigantic  figures  that  were  seen  fighting  before  the 
Greeks  at  Marathon,^  even  the  celestial  signs  that 
promised  Constantine  victory  for  the  cross :  ^ — these 
are  the  effects  of  great  emotion  :  we  can  all  understand 
them.  But  even  in  daily  life  primitive  men  seem  to  have 
dealt  more  freely  than  we  generally  do  with  apparitions 
and  voices  and  daemons  of  every  kind.  One  of  the  most 
remarkable  and  noteworthy  sources  for  this  kind  of 
hallucinatory  god  in  early  societies  is  a  social  custom 
that  we  have  almost  forgotten,  the  reHgious  Dance. 

1  See  Primitive  traits  in  Religious  Revivals,  by  F.  M.  Davenport. 
New  York,  1906. 

2  E.  Doutte,  M^^zV  et  religion  dans  rAJrique  du  Nord,  1909,  p.  601. 

3  Cicero,  de  Nat.  Deorum,  ii.  2  ;  iii.  5,  6  ;   Florus,  ii.  12. 

'^  Plut.  Theseus,  35  ;  Paus.  i.  32.  5.  Herodotus  only  mentions 
a  bearded  and  gigantic  figure  who  struck  Epizelos  blind  (vi.  117). 

5  Eusebius,  Fit.  Constant.,  1.  i,  cc.  28,  29,  30  :  Nazarius  inter  Panegyr. 
Vet.  X.  14,  15. 


42  SATURNIA  REGNA  i 

When  the  initiated  young  men  of  Crete  or  elsewhere 
danced  at  night  over  the  mountains  in  the  Oreibasia 
or  Mountain  Walk  they  not  only  did  things  that  seemed 
beyond  their  ordinary  workaday  strength ;  they  also  felt 
themselves  led  on  and  on  by  some  power  which  guided 
and  sustained  them.  This  daemon  has  no  necessary 
name  :  a  man  may  be  named  after  him  '  Oreibasius  ', 
'  Belonging  to  the  Mountain  Dancer  ',  just  as  others 
may  be  named  '  Apollonius '  or  '  Dionysius  '.  The  god 
is  only  the  spirit  of  the  Mountain  Dance,  Oreibates, 
though  of  course  he  is  absorbed  at  different  times  in 
various  Olympians.  There  is  one  god  called  Aphiktor, 
the  Suppliant,  He  w^ho  prays  for  mercy.  He  is  just 
the  projection,  as  M.  Doutte  would  say,  of  the  intense 
emotion  of  one  of  those  strange  processions  well  known 
in  the  ancient  world,  bands  of  despairing  men  or  w^omen 
who  have  thrown  away  all  means  of  self-defence  and 
join  together  at  some  holy  place  in  one  passionate 
prayer  for  pity.  The  highest  of  all  gods,  Zeus,  was 
the  special  patron  of  the  supphant ;  and  it  is  strange 
and  instructive  to  find  that  Zeus  the  all-powerful 
is  actually  identified  with  this  Aphiktor  :  Zei;?  fxh 
A(j)LKro}p  eVtSoL  TTpo(j>p6voj^}  The  assembled  prayer, 
the  united  cry  that  rises  from  the  oppressed  of  the 
world,  is  itself  grown  to  be  a  god,  and  the  greatest 
god.  A  similar  projection  arose  from  the  dance  of  the 
Kouroi,  or  initiate  youths,  in  the  dithyramb — the  magic 
dance  which  was  to  celebrate,  or  more  properly,  to 

1  Aesch.  Suppl.  I,  cf.  478,  Zeis  iKTijp.  Rise  of  the  Greek  Epc^,  pp.  108, 
291.  Adjectival  phrases  like  Zevs  iKeVio?,  'iKcrr^o-to?,  'iKxaZo?  are 
common  and  call  for  no  remark. 


I  SATURNIA  REGNA  45 

hasten  and  strengthen,  the  coming  on  of  spring.  That 
dance  projected  the  Megistos  Kouros,  the  greatest  of 
youths,  who  is  the  incarnation  of  spring  or  the  return 
of  Hfe,  and  Hes  at  the  back  of  so  many  of  the  most 
gracious  shapes  of  the  classical  pantheon.  The  Kouros 
appears  as  Dionysus,  as  Apollo,  as  Hermes,  as  Ares  : 
in  our  clearest  and  most  detailed  piece  of  evidence  he 
actually  appears  with  the  characteristic  history  and 
attributes  of  Zeus.^ 

This  spirit  of  the  dance,  who  leads  it  or  personifies 
its  emotion,  stands  more  clearly  perhaps  than  any 
other  daemon  half-way  between  earth  and  heaven.  A 
number  of  difficult  passages  in  Euripides'  Bacchae  and 
other  Dionysiac  literature  find  their  explanations  when 
we  realize  how  the  god  is  in  part  merely  identified  with 
the  inspired  chief  dancer,  in  part  he  is  the  intangible 
projected  incarnation  of  the  emotion  of  the  dance. 

'  The  collective  desire  personified  : '  on  what  does  the 
collective  desire,  or  collective  dread,  of  the  primitive 
community  chiefly  concentrate  ?  On  two  things,  the 
food-supply  and  the  tribe-supply,  the  desire  not  to  die 
of  famine  and  not  to  be  harried  or  conquered  by  the 
neighbouring  tribe.  The  fertility  of  the  earth  and  the 
fertility  of  the  tribe,  these  two  are  felt  in  early  religion 
as  one."  The  earth  is  a  mother  :  the  human  mother 
is  an  apovpa,  or  ploughed  field.  Earth  as  she  brings 
forth  vegetation  in  spring  is  Kourotrophos,  rearer  of 

^  Hymn  of  the  Kouretes,  Tke?nis,  passim. 

2  See  in  general  I.  King,  Ths  Development  of  Religion,  1910;  E.  J. 
Payne,  History  of  the  Nezu  World,  1892,  p.  414.  Also  Dieterich, 
Muttererde,  esp.  pp.  37-58. 


r 


44  SATURNIA  REGNA  i 

Kouroi,  or  the  young  men  of  the  tribe.  The  nymphs 
and  rivers  are  all  Kourotrophoi.  The  Moon  is 
Kourotrophos.  She  quickens  the  young  of  the  tribe 
in  their  mother's  womb  ;  at  one  terrible  hour  especially 
she  is '  a  lion  to  women  '  who  have  offended  against  her 
holiness.  She  also  marks  the  seasons  of  sowing  and 
ploughing,  and  the  due  time  for  the  ripening  of 
crops.  When  men  learn  to  calculate  in  longer  units, 
the  Sun  appears :  they  turn  to  the  Sun  for  their 
calendar,  and  at  all  times  of  course  the  Sun  has  been 
a  power  in  agriculture.  He  is  not  called  Kourotrophos, 
but  the  Young  Sun  returning  after  winter  is  himself 
a  Kouros,^  and  all  the  Kouroi  have  some  touch  of  the 
Sun  in  them.  The  Cretan  Spring-song  of  the  Kouretes 
prays  for  vioi  TroXtrat,  young  citizens,  quite  simply 
among  the  other  gifts  of  the  spring.^ 

This  is  best  shown  by  the  rites  of  tribal  initiation, 
which  seem  normally  to  have  formed  part  of  the  spring 
Dromena  or  sacred  performances.  The  Kouroi,  as  we 
have  said,  are  the  initiated  young  men.  They  pass 
through  their  initiation ;  they  become  no  longer  TratSe?, 
boys,  but  avSpe<;,  men.  The  actual  name  Kouros  is 
possibly  connected  with  Keipco,  to  shave,^  and  may  mean 

^  Hymn  Orph.  8,  lo  wporpocfic  Kovpe. 

2  For  the  order  in  which  men  generally  proceed  in  worship,  turning 
their  attention  to  (i)  the  momentary  incidents  of  weather,  rain, 
sunshine,  thunder,  &c.  ;  (2)  the  Moon  ;  (3)  the  Sun  and  stars,  see 
Payne,  History  of  the  New  World  called  America^  vol.  i,  p.  474,  cited  by 
Miss  Harrison,  Themis,  p.  390. 

^  On  the  subject  of  Initiations  see  Webster,  Primitive  Secret  Societies, 
New  York,  1908  ;  Schurtz,  Altersklassen  und  Mdnnerbunde,  Berlin, 
1902  ;    Van  Gennep,  Rites  de  Passage,  Paris,   1909.     Also  Nilsson, 


I  SATURNIA  REGNA  45 

that  after  this  ceremony  they  first  cut  their  long  hair. 
Till  then  the  Kovpo<;  is  aKeporeK6iJLrj<; — with  hair  un-  ^ 
shorn.     They  have  now  open  to  them  the  two  roads  d/^ 
that  belong  to  dvSpe^  alone  :    they  have  the  work  of  | 
begetting  children  for  the  tribe,  and  the  work  of  killingj 
the  tribe's  enemies  in  battle. 

The  classification  of  people  according  to  their  age  is 
apt  to  be  sharp  and  vivid  in  primitive  communities. 
We,  for  example,  think  of  an  old  man  as  a  kind  of  man, 
and  an  old  woman  as  a  kind  of  woman  ;  but  in  primitive 
peoples  as  soon  as  a  man  and  woman  cease  to  be  able 
to  perform  his  and  her  due  tribal  functions  they  cease 
to  be  men  and  women,  ctVSpe?  and  yui/at/ceg  :  the 
ex-man  becomes  a  yepcoj/ ;  the  ex-woman  a  ypau?.^ 
We  distinguish  between  '  boy  '  and  '  man  ',  between 
'  girl '  and  '  woman  '  ;  but  apart  from  the  various 
words  for  baby,  Attic  Greek  would  have  four  sharp 
divisions,  Tratg,  e(f)rj/3o<;,  avijp,  yepcuv.^  In  Sparta  the 
divisions  are  still  sharper  and  more  numerous,  centre- 
ing in  the  great  initiation  ceremonies  of  the  Iranes, 
or  full-grown  youths,  to  the  goddess  called  Orthia  or 

Grundlage  des  Spartanischen  Lehens  in  Klio  xii  (191 2),  pp.  308-40. 
The    derivation    from    Ketpw    is    far    from    certain  :     see    ThemiSy 

P-  337,  n.  I. 

1  Cf.  Dr.  Rivers  on  matey '  Primitive  Conception  of  Death,'  Hibhert 
Journal,  January  191 2,  p.  393. 

2  Cf.  Cardinal  Virtues,  Pindar,  Nem.  iii.  72  : 

ev  Trawrt  veoicrt  7ral<i,  kv  avhpdcnv  avrjp,  rpiTov 
iv  7raX.aLT€poLcn  ix€po<;,  eKacrrov  otov  e;(o/x€v 
(Sporeov  Wvo^.      iXa  Se  kol  recrcrapa?  dpera? 
6  6vaT0<i  aiijiv, 
also  Pindar,  Pyth.  iv.  281. 


46  SATURNIA  REGNA  i 

Bortheia.^  These  initiation  ceremonies  are  called 
Teletai,  '  completions '  :  they  mark  the  great  '  rite 
of  transition  '  from  the  immature,  charming,  but  half 
useless  thing,  which  we  call  boy  or  girl,  to  the  TeXeio<; 
avijp,  the  full  member  of  the  tribe  as  fighter  or 
counsellor,  or  to  the  reXeia  yvvrj,  the  full  wife  and 
mother.  This  whole  subject  of  Greek  initiation 
ceremonies  calls  pressingly  for  more  investigation.  It 
is  only  in  the  last  few  years  that  we  have  obtained  the 
material  for  understanding  them,  and  the  whole  mass 
of  the  evidence  needs  re-treatment.  For  one  instance, 
it  is  clear  that  a  great  number  of  rites  which  were 
formerly  explained  as  remnants  of  human  sacrifice  are 
simply  ceremonies  of  initiation.^ 

At  the  great  spring  Dromenon  the  tribe  and  the 
growing  earth  were  renovated  together  :  the  earth 
arises  afresh  from  her  dead  seeds,  the  tribe  from  its 
dead  ancestors;  and  the  whole  process,  charged  as  it  is 
with  the  emotion  of  pressing  human  desire,  projects  its 
anthropomorphic  god  or  daemon.  A  vegetation-spirit 
we  call  him,  very  inadequately  ;  he  is  a  divine  Kouros, 
a  Year-Daemon,  a  spirit  that  in  the  first  stage  is  living, 

^  See  Woodward  in  B.  S.  A.  xiv,  83.  Nikagoras  won  four  (suc- 
cessive ?)  victories  as  ju,iKiX'-toV^*'«?5  Trpoirai^,  Trats,  and  fxcXX^ip-qv, 
i.  e.  from  his  tenth  to  fifteenth  year.  He  would  then  at  14  or  1 5  become 
an  iran.  Plut.  Lye.  17  gives  the  age  of  an  iran  as  20.  This  agrees 
with  the  age  of  an  ^-q^o^  at  Athens  as  '  15-20',  '14-21  ',  '  about  16'; 
see  authorities  in  Stephanus  s.v.  c(firj/3o^.  Such  variations  in  the  date 
of  '  puberty  ceremonies '  are  common. 

2  See  Rise  of  the  Greek  Epc,  Appendix  on  Hym.  Dem.  ;  and 
W.  R.  Halliday,  C.  R.  xxv,  8.  Nilsson's  valuable  article  has  appeared 
since  the  above  was  written  (see  note  3,  p.  44). 


I  SATURNIA  REGNA  47 

then  dies  with  each  year,  then  thirdly  rises  again  from 
the  dead,  raising  the  whole  dead  world  with  him — the 
Greeks  called  him  in  this  phase  '  the  Third  One  ',  or  the 
'  Saviour '.  The  renovation  ceremonies  were  accom- 
panied by  a  casting  off  of  the  old  year,  the  old  garments, 
and  everything  that  is  polluted  by  the  infection  of  death. 
And  not  only  of  death  ;  but  clearly  I  think,  in  spite 
of  the  protests  of  some  Hellenists,  of  guilt  or  sin  also. 
For  the  life  of  the  Year-Daemon,  as  it  seems  to  be 
reflected  in  Tragedy,  is  generally  a  story  of  Pride  and 
Punishment.  Each  Year  arrives,  waxes  great,  commits 
the  sin  of  Hubris,  and  then  is  slain.  The  death  is 
deserved  ;  but  the  slaying  is  a  sin  :  hence  comes  the 
next  Year  as  Avenger,  or  as  the  Wronged  One  re-risen  : 
'  they  all  pay  retribution  for  their  injustice  one  to  ^ 
another  according  to  the  ordinance  of  time.'  ^  It  is 
this  range  of  ideas,  half  suppressed  during  the  classical 
period,  but  evidently  still  current  among  the  ruder 
and  less  Hellenized  peoples,  which  suppHed  St.  Paul 
with  some  of  his  most  famous  and  deep-reaching 
metaphors.  '  Thou  fool,  that  which  thou  sowest  is  not 
quickened  except  it  die.'  ^  'As  He  was  raised  from  the 
dead  we  may  walk  with  Him  in  newness  of  life.'  And 
this  renovation  must  be  preceded  by  a  casting  out  and 
kilHng  of  the  old  polluted  life — '  the  old  man  in  us  must 
first  be  crucified.' 

1  Anaximander  apnd  Simpllc.  phys.  24,  13  ;  Diels,  Fragmente  der 
Vorsokratiker,  i,  13.  See  especially  F.  M.  Cornford,  From  Religion 
to  Philosophy  (Cambridge,  191 2),  i;  also  my  article  on  English  and 
Greek  Tragedy  in  Essays  of  the  Oxford  English  School,  191 2.  This 
explanation  of  the  rpiro's  awri^p  is  my  conjecture. 

2  I  Cor.  XV.  36  ;  Rom.  vi  generally,  3-1 1. 


48  SATURNIA  REGNA  i 

'  The  old  man  must  be  crucified.'  We  observed 
that  in  all  the  three  Festivals  there  was  a  pervasive 
element  of  vague  fear.  Hitherto  we  have  been  dealing 
with  early  Greek  religion  chiefly  from  the  point  of  view 
of  mana,  the  positive  power  or  force  that  man  tries  to 
acquire  from  his  totem-animal  or  his  god.  But  there 
is  also  a  negative  side  to  be  considered  :  there  is  not 
only  the  mana,  but  the  tabu,  the  Forbidden,  the  Thing 
Feared.  We  must  cast  away  the  old  year  ;  we  must 
drive  out  the  (^a/)/xa/co5  or  scapegoat  that  bears  our  sins. 
When  the  ghosts  have  returned  and  feasted  with  us 
at  the  Anthesteria  we  must  with  tar  and  branches  of 
buckthorn  purge  them  out  of  every  corner  of  the  rooms 
till  the  air  is  pure  from  the  infection  of  death.  We  must 
avoid  speaking  dangerous  words ;  in  great  moments 
we  must  avoid  speaking  any  words  at  all,  lest  there 
should  be  even  in  the  most  innocent  of  them  some 
unknown  danger ;  for  we  are  surrounded  above  and 
below  by  Keres,  or  Spirits,  winged  influences,  shape- 
less or  of  unknown  shape,  sometimes  the  spirits  of  death, 
sometimes  of  disease,  madness,  calamity;  thousands 
and  thousands  of  them,  as  Sarpedon  says,  from  whom 
man  can  never  escape  nor  hide;^  'all  the  air  so  crowded 
with  them,'  says  an  unknown  ancient  poet,  '  that  there 
is  not  one  empty  chink  into  which  you  could  push  the 
spike  of  a  blade  of  corn.'  ^ 

The  extraordinary  security  of  our  modern  life  in 

1  //.  M.  326  f. 

2  Frg.  Ap.  Plut.  Consol.  ad  Apoll.  xxvi  .  .  .  ort  'irXdrj  juev  yaia  KaKwv 
TTAur}  ok  uakaacra^  kol  'rotaSe  OvrjroLcn  KaKo.  kukCjv  d/x^6  re  Krjpes 
dXcvvTai,  K€ver]  8'  €i(r8vcn<s  ovS^  aOipt^  (MS.  alOipi). 


I  SATURNIA  REGNA  49 

times  of  peace  makes  it  hard  for  us  to  realize,  except  1 
by  a  definite  effort  of  the  imagination,  the  constant  I 
precariousness,  the  frightful  proximity  of  death,  that  >' 
was  usual  in  these  weak  ancient  communities.  They 
were  in  fear  of  wild  beasts ;  they  were  helpless 
against  floods,  helpless  against  pestilences.  Their  food 
depended  on  the  crops  of  one  tiny  plot  of  ground  ;  and 
if  the  Saviour  was  not  reborn  with  the  spring,  they 
slowly  and  miserably  died.  And  all  the  while  they 
knew  almost  nothing  of  the  real  causes  that  made 
crops  succeed  or  fail.  They  only  felt  sure  it  was  v-'" 
somehow  a  matter  of  pollution,  of  unexpiated  defile- 
ment. It  is  this  state  of  things  that  explains  the  curious 
cruelty  of  early  agricultural  works,  the  human  sacrifices, 
the  scapegoats,  the  tearing  in  pieces  of  living  animals, 
and  perhaps  of  living  men,  the  steeping  of  the  fields  in 
blood.  Like  most  cruelty  it  has  its  roots  in  terror,  terror  -'^* 
of  the  breach  of  Tabu — the  Forbidden  Thing.  I  will 
not  dwell  on  this  side  of  the  picture  :  it  is  well  enough 
known.  But  we  have  to  remember  that,  like  so  many 
morbid  growths  of  the  human  mind,  it  has  its  sublime 
side.  We  must  not  forget  that  the  human  victims 
were  often  volunteers.  The  records  of  Carthage  and 
Jerusalem,  the  long  list  in  Greek  legend  of  princes  and 
princesses  who  died  for  their  country,  tell  the  same 
story.  In  most  human  societies,  savage  as  well  as 
civilized,  it  is  not  hard  to  find  men  who  are  ready  to 
endure  death  for  their  fellow-citizens.  We  need  not 
suppose  that  the  martyrs  were  always  the  noblest  of  the 
human  race.  They  were  sometimes  mad — hysterical 
or  megalomaniac  :    sometimes  reckless  and  desperate  : 

p.  p.  648  D 


V 


50  SATURNIA  REGNA  i 

sometimes,  as  in  the  curious  case  attested  of  the  Roman 
armies  on  the  Danube,  they  were  men  of  strong  desires 
and  weak  imagination  ready  to  die  at  the  end  of  a  short 
period,  if  in  the  meantime  they  might  glut  all  their 
senses  with  unlimited  indulgence.-^ 

Still,  when  all  is  said,  there  is  nothing  that  stirs 
men's  imagination  like  the  contemplation  of  martyr- 
dom, and  it  is  no  wonder  that  the  more  emotional  cults 
of  antiquity  vibrate  with  the  worship  of  this  dying 
Saviour,  the  Sosipolis,  the  Soter,  who  in  so  many 
forms  dies  with  his  world  or  for  his  world,  and  rises 
again  as  the  world  rises,  triumphant  through  suffering 
over  Death  and  the  broken  TIabu, 

Tabu  is  at  first  sight  a  far  more  prominent  element 
in  the  primitive  religions  than  Mana^  just  as  misfortune 
and  crime  are  more  highly  coloured  and  striking  than 
prosperity  and  decent  behaviour.  To  an  early  Greek 
tribe  the  world  of  possible  action  was  sharply  divided 
between  what  was  Themis  and  what  was  Not  Themis, 
between  lawful  and  tahu^  holy  and  unholy,  correct 
and  forbidden.  To  do  a  thing  that  was  not  Themis 
was  a  sure  source  of  public  disaster.  Consequently 
it  was  of  the  first  necessity  in  a  life  full  of  such  perils 
to  find  out  the  exact  rules  about  them.  How  is  that 
to  be  managed  ?  Themis  is  ancient  law  :  it  is  ra  Trar/jta, 

1  Frazer,  Lectures  on  the  Early  History  of  the  Kingship,  267 ; 
F.  Cumont,  '  Les  Actes  de  S.  Dasius,'  in  Analecta  Bollandiana, 
xvi.  5-16;  cf.  especially  what  St.  Augustine  says  about  the  disreputable 
hordes  of  would-be  martyrs,  called  Circumcelliones.  See  Index  to 
Augustine,  vol.  xi  in  Migne  :  some  passages  collected  in  Seeck,  Gesch. 
d.  Unter gangs  der  ami  ken  Welt,  vol.  iii,  Anhang,  pp.  503  if. 


I  SATURN  I A  REGNA  51 

the  way  of  our  ancestors,  the  thing  that  has  always 
been  done  and  is  therefore  divinely  right.  In  ordinary 
life,  of  course,  Themis  is  clear.  Every  one  knows  it. 
But  from  time  to  time  new  emergencies  arise,  the  like 
of  which  we  have  never  seen,  and  they  frighten  us. 
We  must  go  to  the  Gerontes,  the  Old  Men  of  the  Tribe; 
they  will  perhaps  remember  what  our  fathers  did. 
What  they  tell  us  will  be  Presbiston,  a  word  which 
means  indifferently  'oldest'  and  'best' — alel  8e  vecorepoL 
acfypaSeovcTLv,  '  Young  men  are  always  being  foolish.' 
Of  course,  if  there  is  a  Basileus,  a  holy  King,  he  by 
his  special  power  may  perhaps  know  best  of  all,  though 
he  too  must  take  care  not  to  gainsay  the  Old  Men. 

For  the  whole  problem  is  to  find  out  ra  Trdrpia,  the 
ways  that  our  fathers  followed.  And  suppose  the  Old 
Men  themselves  fail  us,  what  must  we  needs  do  ?  Here 
we  come  to  a  famous  and  peculiar  Greek  custom,  for 
which  I  have  never  seen  quoted  any  exact  parallel  or 
any  satisfactory  explanation.  If  the  Old  Men  fail  us, 
we  must  go  to  those  older  still,  go  to  our  great  ancestors, 
the  rjpoj€<;,  the  Chthonian  people,  lying  in  their  sacred 
tombs,  and  ask  them  to  help.  The  word  XP^^  means 
both  '  to  lend  money  '  and  '  to  give  an  oracle  ',  two 
ways  of  helping  people  in  an  emergency.  Sometimes 
a  tribe  might  happen  to  have  a  real  ancestor  buried 
in  the  neighbourhood ;  if  so,  his  tomb  would  be  an 
oracle.  More  often  perhaps,  for  the  memories  of 
savage  tribes  are  very  precarious,  there  would  be  no 
well-recorded  personal  tomb.  The  oracle  would  be  at 
some  place  sacred  to  the  Chthonian  people  in  general, 
or  to  some  particular  personification  of  them,  a  Delphi 

D  2 


52  SATURNIA  REGNA  i 

or  a  cave  of  Trophonios,  a  place  of  Snakes  and  Earth. 
You  go  to  the  Chthonian  folk  for  guidance  because  they 
are  themselves  the  Oldest  of  the  Old  Ones,  and  they 
know  the  real  custom  :  they  know  what  is  Presbiston; 
what  is  Themis.  And  by  an  easy  extension  of  this 
knowledge  they  are  also  supposed  to  know  what  is. 
He  who  knows  the  law  fully  to  the  uttermost  also 
knows  what  will  happen  if  the  law  is  broken.  It  is, 
I  think,  important  to  realize  that  the  normal  reason 
for  consulting  an  oracle  was  not  to  ask  questions  of 
fact.  It  was  that  some  emergency  had  arisen  in  which 
men  simply  wanted  to  know  how  they  ought  to  behave. 
The  advice  they  received  in  this  way  varied  from 
the  virtuous  to  the  abominable,  as  the  religion  itself 
varied.  A  great  mass  of  oracles  can  be  quoted  enjoining 
the  rules  of  customary  morality,  justice,  honesty,  piety, 
duty  to  a  man's  parents,  to  the  old,  and  to  the  weak. 
But  of  necessity  the  oracles  hated  change  and  strangled 
the  progress  of  knowledge.  Also,  like  most  manifesta- 
tions of  early  religion,  they  throve  upon  human  terror: 
the  more  blind  the  terror  the  stronger  became  their 
hold.  In  such  an  atmosphere  the  lowest  and  most 
beastlike  elements  of  humanity  tended  to  come  to 
the  front ;  and  religion  no  doubt  as  a  rule  joined  with 
them  in  drowning  the  voice  of  criticism  and  of  civiliza- 
tion, that  is,  of  reason  and  of  mercy.  When  really 
frightened  the  oracle  generally  fell  back  on  some  remedy 
full  of  pain  and  blood.  The  mediaeval  plan  of  burning 
//  heretics  alive  had  not  yet  been  invented.  But  the 
history  of  uncivilized  man,  if  it  were  written,  would 
provide  a  vast  list  of  victims,  all  of  them  innocent,  who 


I  SATURNIA  REGNA  55 

died  or  suffered  to  expiate  some  portent  or  monstrum — 
some  reported  repas — ^with  which  they  had  nothing 
whatever  to  do,  which  was  in  no  way  altered  by  their 
suffering,  which  probably  never  really  happened  at 
all,  and  if  it  did  was  of  no  consequence.  The  sins  of 
the  modern  world  in  dealing  with  heretics  and  witches 
have  perhaps  been  more  gigantic  than  those  of  primitive 
men,  but  one  can  hardly  rise  from  the  record  of  these 
ancient  observances  without  being  haunted  by  the 
judgement  of  the  Roman  poet 

Tantum  religio  potuit  suadere  malorum 

and  feeling  with  him  that  the  lightening  of  this  cloud, 
the  taming  of  this  blind  dragon,  must  rank  among 
the  very  greatest  services  that  Hellenism  wrought  for 
mankind. 


II 

THE  OLYMPIAN  CONQUEST 


II 

THE  OLYMPIAN  CONQUEST 

I.  Origin  of  the  Olympians 

The  historian  of  early  Greece  must  find  himself 
often  on  the  watch  for  a  particular  cardinal  moment, 
generally  impossible  to  date  in  time  and  sometimes 
hard  even  to  define  in  terms  of  development,  when 
the  clear  outline  that  we  call  Classical  Greece  begins 
to  take  shape  out  of  the  mist.  It  is  the  moment  when, 
as  Herodotus  puts  it,  '  the  Hellenic  race  was  marked 
off  from  the  barbarian,  as  more  intelligent  and  more 
emancipated  from  silly  nonsense.'  ^  In  the  eighth 
century  b.c,  for  instance,  so  far  as  our  remains  indicate, 
there  cannot  have  been  much  to  show  that  the  inhabi- 
tants of  Attica  and  Boeotia  and  the  Peloponnese  were 
markedly  superior  to  those  of,  say,  Lycia  or  Phrygia,  or 
even  Epirus.  By  the  middle  of  the  fifth  century  the 
difference  is  enormous.  On  the  one  side  is  Hellas,  on 
the  other  the  motley  tribes  of  '  barbaroi '. 

When  the  change  does  come  and  is  consciously  felt 
we  may  notice  a  significant  fact  about  it.     It  does 

^  Hdt.  i.  60  cTret  ye  aTreKpiOy]  Ik  TraXacTepov  tov  /Sap/^dpov  Wveos  to 
'HXXrjvLKov  iov  Koi  Se^iwrepoi/  kol  ev-qOiiq's  rjXiOiov  OLTrrjXXay/xivov 
fiaXXov,  As  to  the  date  here  suggested  for  the  definite  dawn  of 
Hellenism  Mr.  Edwyn  Bevan  writes  to  me  :  'I  have  often  wondered 
what  the  reason  is  that  about  that  time  a  new  age  began  all  over  the 
world  that  we  know.  In  Nearer  Asia  the  old  Semitic  monarchies 
gave  place  to  the  Zoroastrian  Aryans ;  in  India  it  was  the  time  of 
Buddha,  in  China  of  Confucius.' 


S8  THE  OLYMPIAN  CONQUEST  ii 

not  announce  itself  as  what  it  was,  a  new  thing  in 
the  world.  It  professes  to  be  a  revival,  or  rather 
an  emphatic  realization,  of  something  very  old.  The 
new  spirit  of  classical  Greece,  with  all  its  humanity,  its 
intellectual  life,  its  genius  for  poetry  and  art,  describes 
itself  merely  as  being  '  Hellenic  ' — ^like  the  Hellenes. 
And  the  Hellenes  were  simply,  as  far  as  we  can  make 
out,  much  the  same  as  the  Achaioi,  one  of  the  many 
tribes  of  predatory  Northnien  who  had  swept  down  on 
the  Aegean  kingdoms  in  the  dawn  of  Greek  history.^ 

This  claim  of  a  new  thing  to  be  old  is,  in  varying 
degrees,  a  common  characteristic  of  great  movements. 
The  Reformation  professed  to  be  a  return  to  the  Bible, 
the  Evangelical  movement  in  England  a  return  to  the 
Gospels,  the  High  Church  movement  a  return  to  the 
early  Church.  A  large  element  even  in  the  French 
Revolution,  the  greatest  of  all  breaches  with  the  past, 
had  for  its  ideal  a  return  to  Roman  republican  virtue 
or  to  the  simplicity  of  the  natural  man.^  I  noticed 
quite  lately  a  speech  of  an  American  Progressive  leader 
claiming  that  his  principles  were  simply  those  of 
Abraham  Lincoln.  The  tendency  is  due  in  part  to  the 
almost  insuperable  difficulty  of  really  inventing  a  new 
word  to  denote  a  new  thing.     It  is  so  much  easier  to 

1  On  this  subject  in  general  see  Ridgeway,  Early  Age  of  Greece,  vol.  i ; 
Leaf,  Companion  to  Homer,  Introduction;  R.G.E.  chap,  ii ;  and 
especially  J.  L.  Myres,  Dawn  of  History,  chaps,  viii  and  ix. 

2  Since  writing  the  above  I  find  in  Vandal,  VAvenement  de  Bonaparte, 
p.  20,  in  Nelson's  edition,  a  phrase  about  the  Revolutionary  soldiers  : 
*Ils  se  modelaient  sur  ces  Romains . . .  sur  ces  Spartiates . . .  et  ils  creaient 
un  type  de  haute  vertu  guerriere,  quand  ils  croyaient  seulement  le 
reproduire.' 


II  THE  OLYMPIAN  CONQUEST  59 

take  an  existing  word,  especially  a  famous  word  with 
fine  associations,  and  twist  it  into  a  new  sense.  In 
part,  no  doubt,  it  comes  from  mankind's  natural  love 
for  these  old  associations,  and  the  fact  that  nearly  all 
people  who  are  worth  much  have  in  them  some  instinc- 
tive spirit  of  reverence.  Even  when  striking  out  a  new 
path  they  like  to  feel  that  they  are  following  at  least  the 
spirit  of  one  greater  than  themselves 

The  Hellenism  of  the  sixth  and  fifth  centuries  was 
to  a  great  extent  what  the  Hellenism  of  later  ages  was 
almost  entirely,  an  ideal  and  a  standard  of  culture. 
The  classical  Greeks  were  not,  strictly  speaking,  pure 
Hellenes  by  blood.  Herodotus  and  Thucydides  ^  are 
quite  clear  about  that.  The  original  Hellenes  were 
a  particular  conquering  tribe  of  great  prestige,  which 
attracted  the  surrounding  tribes  to  follow  it,  imitate 
it,  and  call  themselves  by  its  name.  The  Spartans  were, 
to  Herodotus,  Hellenic  ;  the  Athenians  on  the  other 
hand  were  not.  They  were  Pelasgian,  but  by  a  certain 
time  '  changed  into  Hellenes  and  learnt  the  language  '. 
In  historical  times  we  cannot  really  find  any  tribe  of 
pure  Hellenes  in  existence,  though  the  name  clings 
faintly  to  a  particular  district,  not  otherwise  important, 
in  South  Thessaly.  Had  there  been  any  undoubted 
Hellenes  with  incontrovertible  pedigrees  still  going, 
very  likely  the  ideal  would  have  taken  quite  a  different 
name.  But  where  no  one's  ancestry  would  bear  much 
inspection,  the  only  way  to  show  you  were  a  true  Hellene 
was  to  behave  as  such  :  that  is,  to  approximate  to 
some  constantly  rising  ideal  of  what  the  true  Hellene 
1  Hdt.  i.  56  f. ;  Th.  i.  3  (Hellen  son  of  Deucalion,  in  both). 


/ 


6o  THE  OLYMPIAN  CONQUEST  ii 

should  be.  In  all  probability  if  a  Greek  of  the  fifth 
century,  like  Aeschylus  or  even  Pindar,  had  met  a 
group  of  the  real  Hellenes  or  Achaioi  of  the  Migrations, 
he  would  have  set  them  down  as  so  many  obvious  and 
flaming  barbarians. 

We  do  not  know  whether  the  old  Hellenes  had  any 
general  word  to  denote  the  surrounding  peoples  ('Pelas- 
gians  and  divers  other  barbarous  tribes '  ^)  whom  they 
conquered  or  accepted  as  allies.^  In  any  case  by  the 
time  of  the  Persian  Wars  (say  500  b.  c.)  all  these  tribes 
together  considered  themselves  Hellenized,  bore  the 
name  of  '  Hellenes ',  and  formed  a  kind  of  unity  against 
hordes  of  '  barbaroi '  surrounding  them  on  every  side 
and  threatening  them  especially  from  the  east. 

Let  us  consider  for  a  moment  the  dates.  In  political 
history  this  self-realization  of  the  Greek  tribes  as 
Hellenes  against  barbarians  seems  to  have  been  first 
felt  in  the  Ionian  settlements  on  the  coast  of  Asia 
Minor,  where  the  '  sons  of  Javan  '  (Yawan  =  'idcov) 
clashed  as  invaders  against  the  native  Hittite  and 
Semite.  It  was  emphasized  by  a  similar  clash  in  the 
further  colonies  in  Pontus  and  in  the  West.  If  we 
wish  for  a  central  moment  as  representing  this  self- 
realization  of  Greece,  I  should  be  inclined  to  find  it 
in  the  reign  of  Pisistratus  (560-527  B.C.)  when  that 

^  Hdt.  i.  58.    In  viii.  44  the  account  is  more  detailed. 

2  The  Homeric  evidence  is,  as  usual,  inconclusive.  The  word 
f^dpjSapoL  is  absent  from  both  poems,  an  absence  v/hich  must  be 
intentional  on  the  part  of  the  later  reciters,  but  may  well  come 
from  the  original  sources.  The  compound  ^ap^apocfiwvoL  occurs  in 
B  867,  but  who  knows  the  date  of  that  particular  line  in  that  particular 
wording]? 


L^sjJ^ 


v6Ueviv.^A'  '^^^^"^-^  a.^4^^ 


II  THE  OLYMPIAN  CONQUEST  6i 

monarch  made,  as  it  were,  the  first  sketch  of  an  Athenian 
empire  based  on  alliances  and  took  over  to  Athens  the 
leadership  of  the  Ionian  race. 

In  literature  the  decisive  moment  is  clear.  It  came 
v^hen,  in  Mr.  Mackail's  phrase,  '  Homer  came  to  / 
Hellas.'  ^  The  date  is  apparently  the  same,  and  the 
influences  at  work  are  the  same.  It  seems  to  have 
been  under  Pisistratus  that  the  Homeric  Poems,  in 
some  form  or  other,  came  from  Ionia  to  be  recited  in 
a  fixed  order  at  the  Panathenaic  Festival,  and  to  find 
a  canonical  form  and  a  central  home  in  Athens  till  the 
end  of  the  classical  period.  Athens  is  the  centre  from 
which  Homeric  influence  radiates  over  the  mainland 
of  Greece.  Its  effect  upon  literature  was  of  course 
enormous.  It  can  be  traced  in  various  ways.  By  the 
content  of  the  literature,  which  now  begins  to  be 
filled  with  the  heroic  saga.  By  a  change  of  style  which 
emerges  in,  say,  Pindar  and  Aeschylus  when  compared 
with  what  we  know  of  Corinna  or  Thespis.  More 
objectively  and  definitely  it  can  be  traced  in  a  remark- 
able change  of  dialect.  The  old  Attic  poets,  like  Solon, 
were  comparatively  little  affected  by  the  epic  influence ; 
the  later  elegists,  like  Ion,  Euenus,  and  Plato,  were 
steeped  in  it.^ 

1  Paper  read  to  the  Classical  Association  at  Birmingham  in  1908. 

2  For  Korinna  see  Wilamowitz  in  Berliner  Klassikertexte,  V.  xiv, 
especially  p.  55.  The  Homeric  epos  drove  out  poetry  like  Corinna's. 
She  had  actually  written :  '  I  sing  the  great  deeds  of  heroes  and 
heroines '  (ttovet  8'  dponov  dpera?  x^tpwtaSwv  diSw,  fr.  10,  Bergk),  so 
that  presumably  her  style  was  sufficiently  '  heroic  '  for  an  un- Homeric 
generation.  For  the  change  of  dialect  in  elegy,  &c.,  see  Thumb, 
Handbuchd.  gr.  Dialekte,  pp.  327-30,  368  ff.,  and  the  literature  there 


62  THE  OLYMPIAN  CONQUEST  ii 

In  religion  the  cardinal  moment  is  the  same.  It 
consists  in  the  coming  of  Homer's  '  Olympian  Gods ', 
and  that  is  to  be  the  subject  of  the  present  essay. 
I  am  not,  of  course,  going  to  describe  the  cults 
and  characters  of  the  various  Olympians.  For  that 
inquiry  the  reader  will  naturally  go  to  the  five  learned 
volumes  of  my  colleague,  Dr.  Farnell.  I  wish  merely 
to  face  certain  difficult  and,  I  think,  hitherto  unsolved 
problems  affecting  the  meaning  and  origin  and  history 
of  the  Olympians  as  a  whole. 

Herodotus  in  a  famous  passage  tells  us  that  Homer 
and  Hesiod  '  made  the  generations  of  the  Gods  for 
the  Greeks  and  gave  them  their  names  and  dis- 
tinguished their  offices  and  crafts  and  portrayed  their 
shapes '  (2.  55).  The  date  of  this  wholesale  proceeding 
was,  he  thinks,  perhaps  as  much  as  four  hundred 
years  before  his  own  day  {c.  450  B.C.)  but  not  more. 
Before  that  time  the  Pelasgians — i.e.  the  primitive 
inhabitants  of  Greece  as  opposed  to  the  Hellenes — 
were  worshipping  gods  in  indefinite  numbers,  with  no 
particular  names ;  many  of  them  appear  as  figures 
carved  emblematically  with  sex-emblems  to  represent 
the  powers  of  fertility  and  generation,  like  the  Athenian 
'  Herms '.  The  whole  account  bristles  with  points  for 
discussion,  but  in  general  it  suits  very  well  with  the 
picture  drawn  in  the  first  of  these  essays,  with  its 
Earth  Maidens  and  Mothers  and  its  projected  Kouroi. 
The  background  is  the  pre-Hellenic  '  Urdummheit  ' ; 

cited.  Fick  and  Hoffmann  overstated  the  change,  but  Hoffmann's 
new  statement  in  Die  griechische  Sprache,  191 1,  sections  on  Die  Elegie, 
seems  just.    The  question  of  Tyrtaeus  is  complicated  by  other  problems. 


II  THE  OLYMPIAN  CONQUEST  65 

the  new  shape  impressed  upon  it  is  the  great  anthropo- 
morphic Olympian  family,  as  defined  in  the  Homeric 
epos  and,  more  timidly,  in  Hesiod.  But  of  Hesiod 
we  must  speak  later. 

Now  who  are  these  Olympian  Gods  and  where  do 
they  come  from  ?  Homer  did  not  '  make '  them  out 
of  nothing.  But  the  understanding  of  them  is  beset 
with  problems. 

In  the  first  place  why  are  they  called  '  Olympian '  ? 
Are  they  the  Gods  of  Mount  Olympus,  the  old  sacred 
mountain  of  Homer's  Achaioi,  or  do  they  belong  to 
the  great  sanctuary  of  Olympia  in  which  Zeus,  the  lord 
of  the  Olympians,  had  his  greatest  festival  ?  The  two 
are  at  opposite  ends  of  Greece,  Olympus  in  North 
Thessaly  in  the  north-east,  Olympia  in  Elis  in  the 
south-west.  From  which  do  the  Olympians  come  ? 
On  the  one  hand  it  is  clear  in  Homer  that  they  dwell 
on  Mount  Olympus ;  they  have  '  Olympian  houses ' 
beyond  human  sight,  on  the  top  of  the  sacred  moun- 
tain, which  in  the  Odyssey  is  identified  with  heaven. 
On  the  other  hand,  when  Pisistratus  introduced  the 
worship  of  Olympian  Zeus  on  a  great  scale  into  Athens 
and  built  the  Olympieum,  he  seems  to  have  brought 
him  straight  from  Olympia  in  Elis.  For  he  introduced 
the  special  Elean  complex  of  gods,  Zeus,  Rhea,  Kronos, 
and  Ge  Olympia.^ 

Fortunately  this  puzzle  can  be  solved.  The  Olym- 
pians belong  to  both  places.     It  is  merely  a  case  of 

^  The  facts  are  well  known  :  see  Paus.  i.  1 8.  7,  The  inference  was 
pointed  out  to  me  by  Miss  Harrison. 


/ 


64  THE  OLYMPIAN  CONQUEST  11 

tribal  migration.  History,  confirmed  by  the  study  of 
the  Greek  dialects,  seems  to  show  that  these  northern 
Achaioi  came  down  from  Thessaly  across  central 
Greece  and  the  Gulf  of  Corinth  and  settled  in  Elis.^ 
They  brought  with  them  their  Olympian  Zeus  and 
established  him  as  superior  to  the  existing  god,  Kronos. 
The  Games  became  Olympian  and  the  sanctuary  by 
which  they  were  performed  '  Olympia  '.^ 

As  soon  as  this  point  is  clear,  we  understand  also  why 
there  is  more  than  one  Mount  Olympus.  We  can  all 
think  of  two,  one  in  Thessaly  and  one  across  the  Aegean 
in  Mysia.  But  there  are  many  more  ;  some  twenty- 
odd,  if  I  mistake  not,  in  the  whole  Greek  region. 
Whatever  the  original  meaning  of  '  Olympus '  may  be, 
it  seems  clear  that  the  Olympian  gods,  wherever  their 
worshippers  moved,  tended  to  dwell  in  the  highest 
mountain  in  the  neighbourhood,  and  the  mountain 
thereby  became  Olympus. 

The  name,  then,  explains  itself.  The  Olympians 
are  the  mountain  gods  of  the  old  invading  Northmen, 
the  chieftains  and  princes,  each  with  his  comitatus  or 
loose  following  of  retainers  and  minor  chieftains,  who 
broke  in  upon  the  ordered  splendours  of  the  Aegean 
palaces  and,  still  more  important,  on  the  ordered  sim- 
plicity of  tribal  life  in  the  pre-Hellenic  villages  of  the 

^  I  do  not  here  raise  the  question  how  far  the  Achaioi  have  special 
affinities  with  the  north-west  group  of  tribes  or  dialects.  See  Thumb, 
Handbuch  d.  gr.  Dialekte  (1909),  p.  166  f.  The  Achaioi  must  have 
passed  through  South  Thessaly  in  any  case. 

2  That  Kronos  was  in  possession  of  the  Kronion  and  Olympia 
generally  before  Zeus  came  was  recognized  in  antiquity  ;  Paus.  v.  7.  4 
and  10.     Also  Mayer  in  Roscher's  Lexicon,  ii,  p.  1508,  50  ff. 


II  THE  OLYMPIAN  CONQUEST  65 

mainland.  Now,  it  is  a  canon  of  religious  study  that 
all  gods  reflect  the  social  state,  past  or  present,  of 
their  worshippers.  From  this  point  of  view  what 
appearance  do  the  Olympians  of  Homer  make  ?  What 
are  they  there  for  ?  What  do  they  do,  and  what  are 
their  relations  one  to  another  ? 

The  gods  of  most  nations  claim  to  have  created  the 
world.  The  Olympians  make  no  such  claim.  The 
most  they  ever  did  was  to  conquer  it.  Zeus  and  his 
comitatus  conquered  Cronos  and  his  ;  conquered  and 
expelled  them — sent  them  migrating  beyond  the 
horizon,  Heaven  knows  where.  Zeus  took  the  chief 
dominion  and  remained  a  permanent  overlord,  but  he 
apportioned  large  kingdoms  to  his  brothers  Hades  and 
Poseidon,  and  confirmed  various  of  his  children  and 
followers  in  lesser  fiefs.  Apollo  went  off  on  his  own 
adventure  and  conquered  Delphi.  Athena  conquered 
the  Giants.  She  gained  Athens  by  a  conquest  over 
Poseidon,  a  point  of  which  we  will  speak  later. 

And  when  they  have  conquered  their  kingdoms,  what 
do  they  do  ?  Do  they  attend  to  the  government  ?  Do 
they  promote  agriculture  ?  Do  they  practise  trades  and 
industries  ?  Not  a  bit  of  it.  Why  should  they  do  any 
honest  work  t  They  find  it  easier  to  live  on  the  revenues 
and  blast  with  thunderbolts  the  people  who  do  not 
pay.  They  are  conquering  chieftains,  royal  buccaneers. 
They  fight,  and  feast,  and  play,  and  make  music ;  they 
drink  deep,  and  roar  with  laughter  at  the  lame  smith 
who  waits  on  them.  They  are  never  afraid,  except  of 
their  own  king.  They  never  tell  lies,  except  in  love 
and  war. 

p.  P-  648  E 


66  THE  OLYMPIAN  CONQUEST  ii 

A  few  deductions  may  be  made  from  this  statement, 
but  they  do  not  affect  its  main  significance.  One  god, 
you  may  say,  Hephaistos,  is  definitely  a  craftsman. 
Yes  :  a  smith,  a  maker  of  weapons.  The  one  craftsman 
that  a  gang  of  warriors  needed  to  have  by  them  ;  and 
they  preferred  him  lame,  so  that  he  should  not  run 
away.  Again,  Apollo  herded  for  hire  the  cattle  of 
Admetus ;  Apollo  and  Poseidon  built  the  walls  of  Troy 
for  Laomedon.  Certainly  in  such  stories  we  have 
an  intrusion  of  other  elements ;  but  in  any  case  the 
work  done  is  not  habitual  work,  it  is  a  special  punish- 
ment. Again,  it  is  not  denied  that  the  Olympians 
have  some  effect  on  agriculture  and  on  justice  :  they 
destroy  the  harvests  of  those  who  offend  them,  they 
punish  oath-breakers  and  the  like.  Even  in  the  Heroic 
Age  itself — if  we  may  adopt  Mr.  Chadwick's  convenient 
title  for  the  Age  of  the  Migrations — chieftains  and 
gods  probably  retained  some  vestiges  of  the  functions 
they  had  exercised  in  more  normal  and  settled  times ; 
and  besides  we  must  always  realize  that,  in  these 
inquiries,  we  never  meet  a  simple  and  uniform  figure. 
We  must  further  remember  that  these  gods  are  not  real 
[people  with  a  real  character.  They  never  existed. 
They  are  only  concepts,  exceedingly  confused  cloudy 
and  changing  concepts,  in  the  minds  of  thousands  of 
diverse  worshippers  and  non-worshippers.  They 
change  every  time  they  are  thought  of,  as  a  word 
changes  every  time  it  is  pronounced.  Even  in  the 
height  of  the  Achaean  wars  the  concept  of  any  one 
god  would  be  mixed  up  with  traditions  and  associa- 
tions drawn  from  the  surrounding  populations  and 


II  THE  OLYMPIAN  CONQUEST  6^ 

their  gods ;  and  by  the  time  they  come  down  to  us  in 
Homer  and  our  other  early  literature,  they  have  passed 
through  the  minds  of  many  different  ages  and  places, 
especially  Ionia  and  Athens. 

The  Olympians  described  in  our  text  of  Homer,  or 
as  described  in  the  Athenian  recitations  of  the  sixth 
century,  are  mutatis  mutandis  related  to  the  Olympians 
of  the  Heroic  Age  much  as  the  Hellenes  of  the  sixth 
century  are  to  the  Hellenes  of  the  Heroic  Age.  I  say 
'  mutatis  mutandis  \  because  the  historical  development 
of  a  group  of  imaginary  concepts  shrined  in  tradition 
and  romance  can  never  be  quite  the  same  as  that  of  the 
people  who  conceive  them.  The  realm  of  fiction  is 
apt  both  to  leap  in  front  and  to  lag  in  the  rear  of  the 
march  of  real  life.  Romance  will  hug  picturesque 
darknesses  as  well  as  invent  perfections.  But  the  gods 
of  Homer,  as  we  have  them,  certainly  seem  to  show 
traces  of  the  process  through  which  they  have  passed  : 
of  an  origin  among  the  old  conquering  Achaioi,  a 
development  in  the  Ionian  epic  schools,  and  a  final 
home  in  Athens.^ 

1  I  do  not  touch  here  on  the  subject  of  the  gradual  expurgation  of 
the  Poems  to  suit  the  feelings  of  a  more  civilized  audience  ;  see  Rise  of 
the  Greek  Efic,^  pp.  141-67.  Many  scholars  believe  that  the  Poems 
did  not  exist  as  a  written  book  till  the  public  copy  was  made  by 
Pisistratus ;  see  Cauer,  Grundfragen  der  Homerkritik  2  (1909),  pp.  113- 
45;  i?.  G.£.,  p.  320;  Lesii,  Iliad,  vol.  i,  p.  xvi.  This  view  is 
tempting,  though  the  evidence  seems  to  be  insufficient  to  justify 
a  pronouncement  either  way.  If  it  is  true,  then  various  passages 
which  show  a  verbal  use  of  earlier  documents  (like  the  Bellerophon 
passage,  R.  G.  E.,  p.  197-9)  cannot  have  been  put  in  before  the 
Athenian  period. 

E  2 


68  THE  OLYMPIAN  CONQUEST  ii 

For  example,  what  gods  are  chiefly  prominent  in 
Homer  ?  In  the  Iliad  certainly  three,  Zeus,  Apollo, 
and  Athena,  and  much  the  same  would  hold  for 
the  Odyssey.  Next  to  them  in  importance  will  be 
Poseidon,  Hera,  and  Hermes. 

Zeus  stands  somewhat  apart.  He  is  one  of  the  very 
few  gods  with  recognizable  and  undoubted  Indo- 
germanic  names,  Djeus,  the  well-attested  sky-  and 
rain-god  of  the  Aryan  race.  He  is  Achaian  ;  he  is 
*  Hellanios ',  the  god  worshipped  by  all  Hellenes.  He 
is  also,  curiously  enough,  Pelasgian,  and  Mr.  A.  B.  Cook^ 
can  explain  to  us  the  seeming  contradiction.  But  the 
Northern  elements  in  the  conception  of  Zeus  have  on 
the  whole  triumphed  over  any  Pelasgian  or  Aegean  sky- 
god  with  which  they  may  have  mingled,  and  Zeus,  in 
spite  of  his  dark  hair,  may  be  mainly  treated  as  the 
patriarchal  god  of  the  invading  Northmen,  passing 
from  the  Upper  Danube  down  by  his  three  great 
sanctuaries,  Dodona,  Olympus,  and  Olympia.  He  had 
an  extraordinary  power  of  ousting  or  absorbing  the 
various  objects  of  aboriginal  worship  which  he  found 
in  his  path.  The  story  of  Meilichios  above  (p.  28)  is 
a  common  one.  Of  course,  we  must  not  suppose  that 
the  Zeus  of  the  actual  Achaioi  was  a  figure  quite  like 
the  Zeus  of  Pheidias  or  of  Homer.  There  has  been 
a  good  deal  of  expurgation  in  the  Homeric  Zeus,^  as 
Mr.  Cook  clearly  shows.  The  Counsellor  and  Cloud- 
compeller  of  classical  Athens  was  the  wizard  and  rain- 

^  In  his  forthcoming  work,  Zeus,  the  Indo-European  Sky -God. 
2  A  somewhat  similar  change  occurred  in  Othin,  though  he  always 
retains  more  of  the  crooked  wizard. 


II  THE  OLYMPIAN  CONQUEST  69 

maker  of  earlier  times ;  and  the  All-Father  surprises 
us  in  Thera  and  Crete  by  appearing  both  as  a  babe  and 
as  a  Kouros  in  spring  dances  and  initiation  rituals.^ 
It  is  a  long  way  from  these  conceptions  to  the  Zeus 
of  Aeschylus,  a  figure  as  sublime  as  the  Jehovah  of  Job  ; 
but  the  lineage  seems  clear. 

Zeus  is  the  Achaean  Sky-god.  His  son  Phoebus 
Apollo  is  of  more  complex  make.  On  one  side  he 
is  clearly  a  Northman.  He  has  connexions  with  the 
Hyperboreans.^  He  has  a  '  sacred  road '  leading  far 
into  the  North,  along  which  offerings  are  sent  back 
from  shrine  to  shrine  beyond  the  bounds  of  Greek 
knowledge.  Such  '  sacred  roads  '  are  normally  the 
roads  by  which  the  God  himself  has  travelled  ;  the 
offerings  are  sent  back  from  the  new  sanctuary  to 
the  old.  On  the  other  side  Apollo  reaches  back  to  an 
Aegean  matriarchal  Kouros.  His  home  is  Delos,  where 
he  has  a  mother,  Leto,  but  no  very  visible  father.  He 
leads  the  ships  of  his  islanders,  sometimes  in  the  form 
of  a  dolphin.  He  is  no  '  Hellene  '.  In  the  fighting 
at  Troy  he  is  against  the  Achaioi  :  he  destroys  the 
Greek  host,  he  champions  Hector,  he  even  slays 
Achilles.  In  the  Homeric  hymn  to  Apollo  we  read 
that  when  the  great  archer  draws  near  to  Olympus 
all  the  gods  tremble  and  start  from  their  seats ;  Leto 
alone,  and  of  course  Zeus,  hold  their  ground.^     What 

1  Themis,  chap.  i.  On  the  Zeus  of  Aeschylus  cf.  R.  G.  E., 
pp.  291-5  ;  Gomperz,  Greek  Thi?ikers,  ii.  6-8. 

2  Farnell,  Cults^  iv.  100-4.     See,  however,  Gruppe,  p.  107  f. 

^  Hymn.  Ap.  init.  Cf.  Wilamowitz's  Oxford  Lecture  on  '  Apollo  ' 
(Oxford,  1907). 


.^ 


70  THE  OLYMPIAN  CONQUEST  ii 

this  god's  original  name  was  at  Delos  we  cannot  be 
sure  :  he  has  very  many  names  and  '  epithets  '.  But 
he  early  became  identified  with  a  similar  god  at 
Delphi  and  adopted  his  name,  '  Apollon,'  or,  in  the 
Delphic  and  Dorian  form,  '  Apellon ' — evidently  the 
Kouros  projected  from  the  Dorian  gatherings  called 
'  apellae  '.-^  As  Phoibos  he  is  a  sun-god,  and  from 
classical  times  onward  we  often  find  him  definitely 
identified  with  the  Sun,  a  distinction  which  came 
easily  to  a  Kouros. 

In  any  case,  and  this  is  the  important  point,  he  is  at 
Delos  the  chief  god  of  the  lonians.  The  lonians  are 
defined  by  Herodotus  as  those  tribes  and  cities  who 
were  sprung  from  Athens  and  kept  the  Apaturia. 
They  recognized  Delos  as  their  holy  place  and  wor- 
shipped Apollo  Patroos  as  their  ancestor.^  The  Ionian 
Homer  has  naturally  brought  us  the  Ionian  god  ;  and, 
significantly  enough,  though  the  tradition  makes  him 
an  enemy  of  the  Greeks,  and  the  poets  have  to  accept 
the  tradition,  there  is  no  tendency  to  crab  or  belittle 
him.  He  is  the  most  splendid  and  awful  of  Homer's 
Olympians. 

The  case  of  Pallas  Athena  is  even  simpler,  though  it 
leads  to  a  somewhat  surprising  result.  What  Apollo 
is  to  Ionia  that,  and  more,  Athena  is  to  Athens.  There 
are  doubtless  foreign  elements  in  Athena,  some  Cretan 

^  Themis,  p.  439  f.  Other  explanations  of  the  name  in  Gruppe, 
p.  1224  f.,  notes. 

2  Hdt.  i.  147 ;  Plato,  Euthyd.  302  c  :  Socrates.  '  No  Ionian 
recognizes  a  Zeus  Patroos ;  Apollo  is  our  Patrcos,  because  he  was 
father  of  Ion.' 


II  THE  OLYMPIAN  CONQUEST  71 

and  Ionian,  some  Northern.^  But  her  whole  appearance 
in  history  and  literature  tells  the  same  story  as  her 
name.  Athens  is  her  city  and  she  is  the  goddess  of 
Athens,  the  Athena  or  Athenaia  Kore.  In  Athens  she 
can  be  simply  '  Parthenos ',  the  Maiden  ;  elsewhere 
she  is  the  '  Attic  '  or  '  Athenian  Maiden '.  As 
Glaucopis  she  is  identified  or  associated  with  the 
Owl  that  was  the  sacred  bird  of  Athens.  As  Pallas  she 
seems  to  be  a  Thunder-maiden,  a  sort  of  Keraunia  or 
bride  of  Keraunos.  A  Palladion  consists  of  two 
thunder-shields,  set  one  above  the  other  like  a  figure 
8,  and  we  can  trace  in  art-types  the  development  of 
this  8  into  a  human  figure.  It  seems  clear  that  the 
old  Achaioi  cannot  have  called  their  warrior-maiden, 
daughter  of  Zeus,  by  the  name  Athena  or  Athenaia. 
The  Athenian  goddess  must  have  come  in  from 
Athenian  influence,  and  it  is  strange  to  find  how  deep 
into  the  heart  of  the  poems  that  influence  must  have 
reached.  If  we  try  to  conjecture  whose  place  it  is 
that  Athena  has  taken,  it  is  worth  remarking  that  her 
regular  epithet,  '  daughter  of  Zeus,'  belongs  in  Sanskrit 
to  the  Dawn-goddess,  Eos.^  The  transition  might 
be  helped  by  some  touches  of  the  Dawn-goddess 
that  seem  to  linger  about  Athena  in  myth.  The 
rising  Sun  stayed  his  horses  while  Athena  was  born 
from  the  head  of  Zeus.  Also  she  was  born  amid 
a  snow-storm  of  gold.    And  Eos,  on  the  other  hand,  is, 

^  See  Gruppe,  p.  1206,  on  the  development  of  his  'Philistine 
thunderstorm-goddess '. 

2  Hoffmann,  Gesch.  d.  griechischen  Sprache,  Leipzig,  191 1,  p.  16. 
Cf.  Find.  OL  vii.  35  ;  Ov.  Metani.  ix.  421  ;  xv.  191,  700,  &c. 


72  THE  OLYMPIAN  CONQUEST  ii 

like  Athena,   sometimes   the  daughter  of  the  Giant 
Pallas.i 

Our  three  chief  Olympians,  then,  explain  themselves 
very  easily.  A  body  of  poetry  and  tradition,  in  its 
origin  dating  from  the  Achaioi  of  the  Migrations, 
growing  for  centuries  in  the  hands  of  Ionian  bards, 
and  reaching  its  culminating  form  at  Athens,  has 
prominent  in  it  the  Achaian  Zeus,  the  Ionian  Apollo, 
the  Athenian  Kore — the  same  Kore  who  descended 

1  As  to  the  name,  'AOrjvaia  is  of  course  simply '  Athenian ' ;  the  shorter 
and  apparently  original  form  'A^ava,  kOrjvr]  is  not  so  clear,  but  it  seems 
most  likely  to  mean  '  Attic  '.  Cf.  Meister,  Gr.  Dial.  ii.  290.  He 
classes  under  the  head  of  Oertliche  Bestimmungen  :  a  ^€09  d  Ila^ta 
(Collitz  and  Bechtel,  Sammlung  der  griechischen  Dialekt-Inschriften, 
2,  3,  14%  ^,  15,  16).  '  In  Paphos  selbst  hiess  die  Gottin  nur  d  ^eog 
oder  d  fdvaaaa  ; — d  ^165  d  ToXyla  (61) — d  6*109  d  'A^dva  d  Trep 
'H8dAtoi/  (60,  27,  28),  '  die  Gottin,  die  Athenische,  die  iiber  Edalion 
(waltet)';  "A^-dva  ist,  wie  J.  Baunack  {Studia  Nicolaitana,  s.  27) 
gezeigt  hat,  das  Adjectiv  zu  (*  'Acro-t9  '  Seeland  ')  :  ''ATT-t9 ;  ^krO-i^  ; 
*  'A^-t9  ;  also  'AO-dva  =  'Att-lkyj,  ^AO-rjvai  urspriinglich  'AO-rjvat 
Kw/xat.'  Other  derivations  in  Gruppe,  p.  1194.  Or  again  ai  'AOyvau 
may  be  simply  '  the  place  where  the  Athenas  are  ',  like  ot  IxOves,  the 
fish-market ;  '  the  Athenas '  would  be  statues,  like  ot  'Ep/xa2 — the 
famous  '  Attic  Maidens '  on  the  Acropolis.  This  explanation  would 
lead  to  some  interesting  results. 

We  need  not  here  consider  how,  partly  by  identification  with  other 
Korae,  like  Pallas,  Onka,  &c.,  partly  by  a  genuine  spread  of  the  cult, 
Athena  became  prominent  in  other  cities.  As  to  Homer,  Athena  is  far 
more  deeply  imbedded  in  the  Odyssey  than  in  the  Iliad,  I  am  inclined 
to  agree  with  those  who  believe  that  our  Odyssey  was  very  largely 
composed  in  Athens,  so  that  in  most  of  the  poem  Athena  is  original. 
(Cf.  O.  Seeck,  Die  Quellen  der  Odyssee  (1887),  pp.  366-420 ;  Mulder, 
Die  Ilias  und  ihre  Quellen  (1910),  pp.  350-5.)  In  some  parts  of  the 
Iliad  the  name  Athena  may  well  have  been  substituted  for  some 
Northern  goddess  whose  name  is  now  lost. 


II  THE  OLYMPIAN  CONQUEST  75 

in    person    to   restore    the    exiled    Pisistratus    to   his 
throne.-^ 

We  need  only  throw  a  glance  in  passing  at  a  few 
of  the  other  Olympians.  Why,  for  instance,  should 
Poseidon  be  so  prominent?  In  origin  he  is  a  puzzHng 
figure.  Besides  the  Achaean  Earth-shaking  brother 
of  Zeus  in  Thessaly  there  seems  to  be  some  Pelasgian 
or  Aegean  god  present  in  him.  He  is  closely  connected 
with  Libya ;  he  brings  the  horse  from  there.^  At  times 
he  exists  in  order  to  be  defeated  ;  defeated  in  Athens 
by  Athena,  in  Naxos  by  Dionysus,  in  Aegina  by  Zeus, 
in  Argos  by  Hera,  in  Acrocorinth  by  Helios  though 
he  continues  to  hold  the  Isthmus.  In  Trozen  he 
shares  a  temple  on  more  or  less  equal  terms  with 
Athena.^  Even  in  Troy  he  is  defeated  and  cast  out 
from  the  walls  his  own  hands  had  built.^  These 
problems  we  need  not  for  the  present  face.  By  the 
time  that  concerns  us  most  the  Earth-Shaker  is  a  sea- 
god,  specially  important  to  the  sea-peoples  of  Athens 

1  It  is  worth  noting  also  that  this  Homeric  triad  seems  also  to  be 
recognized  as  the  chief  Athenian  triad.  Plato,  Etithyd.  302  c,  quoted 
above,  continues :  Socrates.  '  We  have  Zeus  with  the  names  Herkeios 
and  Phratrios,  but  not  Patroos,  and  Athena  Phratria/  Dionysodorus. 
*  Well,  that  is  enough.  You  have,  apparently,  Apollo  and  Zeus  and 
Athena  ? '  Socrates.  '  Certainly.'— Apollo  is  put  first  because  he  has 
been  accepted  as  Patroos. 

2  Ridgeway,  Origin  and  Influence  of  the  Thoroughbred  Horse,  1905, 
pp.  287-93  ;  and  Early  Age  of  Greece,  1901,  p.  223. 

3  Cf.  Plut.  Q.  Conv.  ix.  6  ;  Paus.  ii.  I.  6  ;  4.  6  ;   15.  5  ;   30.  6. 

*  So  in  the  non-Homeric  tradition,  Eur.  Troades  init.  In  the  Iliad 
he  is  made  an  enemy  of  Troy,  like  Athena,  who  is  none  the  less  the 
Guardian  of  the  city. 


74  THE  OLYMPIAN  CONQUEST  ii 

and  Ionia.  He  is  the  father  of  Neleus,  the  ancestor 
of  the  Ionian  kings.  His  temple  at  Cape  Mykale  is  the 
scene  of  the  Panionia,  and  second  only  to  Delos  as 
a  religious  centre  of  the  Ionian  tribes.  He  has  intimate 
relations  with  Attica  too.  Besides  the  ancient  contest 
with  Athena  for  the  possession  of  the  land,  he  appears 
as  the  father  of  Theseus,  the  chief  Athenian  hero.  He 
is  merged  in  other  Attic  heroes,  like  Aigeus  and  Erech- 
theus.  He  is  the  special  patron  of  the  Athenian  knights. 
Thus  his  prominence  in  Homer  is  very  natural. 

What  of  Hermes?  His  history  deserves  a  long  mono- 
graph to  itself ;  it  is  so  exceptionally  instructive. 
Originally,  outside  Homer,  Hermes  was  simply  an  old 
upright  stone,  a  pillar  furnished  with  the  regular 
Pelasgian  sex-symbol  of  procreation.  Set  up  over  a 
tomb  he  is  the  power  that  generates  new  lives,  or,  in 
the  ancient  conception,  brings  the  souls  back  to  be 
born  again.  He  is  the  Guide  of  the  Dead,  the  Psycho- 
pompos,  the  divine  Herald  between  the  two  worlds. 
If  you  have  a  message  for  the  dead,  you  speak  it  to 
the  Herm  at  the  grave.  This  notion  of  Hermes  as 
herald  may  have  been  helped  by  his  use  as  a  boundary- 
stone — the  Latin  l^erminus.  Your  boundary-stone  is 
your  representative,  the  deliverer  of  your  message, 
to  the  hostile  neighbour  or  alien.  If  you  wish  to  parley 
with  him,  you  advance  up  to  your  boundary-stone. 
If  you  go,  as  a  Herald,  peacefully,  into  his  territory, 
you  place  yourself  under  the  protection  of  the  same 
sacred  stone,  the  last  sign  that  remains  of  your  own 
safe  country.  If  you  are  killed  or  wronged,  it  is  he, 
the  immovable  Watcher,  who  will  avenge  you. 


II  THE  OLYMPIAN  CONQUEST  75 

Now  this  phallic  stone  post  was  quite  unsuitable  to 
Homer.  It  was  not  decent ;  it  was  not  quite  human  ; 
and  eveiy  personage  in  Homer  has  to  be  both.  In 
the  Iliad  Hermes  is  simply  removed,  and  a  beautiful 
creation  or  tradition,  Iris,  the  rainbow-goddess,  takes 
his  place  as  the  messenger  from  heaven  to  earth.  In 
the  Odyssey  he  is  admitted,  but  so  changed  and 
castigated  that  no  one  would  recognize  the  old  Herm 
in  the  beautiful  and  gracious  youth  who  performs  the 
gods'  messages.  I  can  only  detect  in  his  language 
one  possible  trace  of  his  old  Pelasgian  character.-^ 

Pausanias  knew  who  worked  the  transformation.  In 
speaking  of  Hermes  among  the  other  '  Workers ',  who 
were '  pillars  in  square  form  ',  he  says,  '  As  to  Hermes, 
the  poems  of  Homer  have  given  currency  to  the  report 
that  he  is  a  servant  of  Zeus  and  leads  down  the  spirits 
of  the  departed  to  Hades.'  ^  In  the  magic  papyri 
Hermes  returns  to  something  of  his  old  functions ; 
he  is  scarcely  to  be  distinguished  from  the  Agathos 
Daimon.  But  thanks  to  Homer  he  is  purified  of  his 
old  phallicism. 

Hera,  too,  the  wife  of  Zeus,  seems  to  have  a  curious 
past  behind  her.  She  has  certainly  ousted  the  original 
wife,  Dione,  whose  worship  continued  unchallenged 
in  far  Dodona,  from  times  before  Zeus  descended  upon 
Greek  lands.  When  he  invaded  Thessaly  he  seems 
to  have  left  Dione  behind  and  wedded  the  Queen  of 
the  conquered  territory.  Hera's  permanent  epithet  is 
'  Argeia  ',  '  Argive.'     She  is  the  Argive  Kore,  or  Year- 

1  Od.  H  339  ff. 

2  See  Paus.  viii.  32.  4.    Themis,  pp.  295,  296. 


^6  THE  OLYMPIAN  CONQUEST  ii 

Maiden,  as  Athena  is  the  Attic,  Cypris  the  Cyprian. 
But  Argos  in  Homer  denotes  two  different  places, 
a  watered  plain  in  the  Peloponnese  and  a  watered  plain 
in  Thessaly.  Hera  was  certainly  the  chief  goddess  of 
Peloponnesian  Argos  in  historic  times,  and  had  brought 
her  consort  Herakles  ^  along  with  her,  but  originally  she 
seems  to  have  belonged  to  the  Thessalian  Argos.  She 
helped  Thessalian  Jason  to  launch  the  ship  Argo^  and 
they  launched  it  from  Thessalian  Pagasae.  In  the 
Argonautica  she  is  a  beautiful  figure,  gracious  and 
strong,  the  lovely  patroness  of  the  young  hero.  No 
element  of  strife  is  haunting  her.  But  in  the  Iliad  for 
some  reason  she  is  unpopular.  She  is  a  shrew,  a  scold, 
and  a  jealous  wife.  Why  ?  Miss  Harrison  suggests  that 
the  quarrel  with  Zeus  dates  from  the  time  of  the 
invasion,  when  he  was  the  conquering  alien  and  she 
the  native  queen  of  the  land.^  It  may  be,  too,  that  the 
Ionian  poets  who  respected  their  own  Apollo  and 
Athena  and  Poseidon,  regarded  Hera  as  representing 
some  race  or  tribe  that  they  disliked.  A  goddess  of 
Dorian  Argos  might  be  as  disagreeable  as  a  Dorian.  It 
seems  to  be  for  some  reason  like  this  that  Aphrodite, 
identified  with  Cyprus  or  some  centre  among  Oriental 

^  For  the  connexion  of  "Hpa  ^^pw?  'HpaKA^s  ('HpvKaXos  in  Sophron, 
fr.  142  K)  see  especially  A.  B.  Cook,  Class.  Review,  1906,  pp.  365  and 
416.  The  name"Hpa  seems  probably  to  be  an  ablaut  form  of  wpa : 
cf.  phrases  like  "Hpa  reXcta.  Other  literature  in  Gruppe,  pp.  452, 
1122. 

^  Prolegomena,  p.  315,  referring  to  H.  D.  Miiller,  Mythologie  d. 
gr.  Stdmme,  pp.  249-55.  Another  view  is  suggested  by  Mulder,  Die 
Ilias  und  ihre  Quellen,  p.  136.  The  jealous  Hera  comes  from  the 
Heracles-saga,  in  which  the  wife  hated  the  bastard. 


II  THE  OLYMPIAN  CONQUEST  ^^ 

barbarians,  is  handled  with  so  much  disrespect ;  that 
Ares,  the  Thracian  Kouros,  a  Sun-god  and  War-god,  is 
treated  as  a  mere  bully  and  coward  and  general  pest.^ 

There  is  not  much  faith  in  these  gods,  as  they  appear 
to  us  in  the  Homeric  Poems,  and  not  much  respect, 
except  perhaps  for  Apollo  and  Athena  and  Poseidon. 
The  buccaneer  kings  of  the  Heroic  Age,  cut  loose  from 
all  local  and  tribal  pieties,  intent  only  on  personal  gain 
and  glory,  were  not  the  people  to  build  up  a  powerful 
religious  faith.  They  left  that,  as  they  left  agriculture 
and  handiwork,  to  the  nameless  common  folk.^  And 
it  was  not  likely  that  the  bards  of  cultivated  and 
scientific  Ionia  should  waste  much  religious  emotion 
on  a  system  which  was  clearly  meant  more  for  romance 
than  for  the  guiding  of  life. 

Yet  the  power  of  romance  is  great.  In  the  memory 
of  Greece  the  kings  and  gods  of  the  Heroic  Age  were 
transfigured.  What  had  been  really  an  age  of  reckless 
brutality  became  in  memory  an  age  of  chivalry  and 
splendid  adventure.  The  traits  that  were  at  all 
tolerable  were  idealized  ;  those  that  were  intolerable 
were  either  expurgated,  or,  if  that  was  impossible, 
were  mysticized  and  explained  away.  And  the  savage 
old  Olympians  became  to  Athens  and  the  mainland  of 
Greece  from  the  sixth  century  onward  emblems  of  high 
humanity  and  religious  reform. 

^  P.  Gardner, in  Numismatic  Chronicle^  N.S.  xx, '  Ares  as  a  Sun-God.' 
^  Chadwick,  Heroic  Age,  especially  pp.  414,  459-63. 


78  THE  OLYMPIAN  CONQUEST  ii 

II.  l^he  Religious  Value  of  the  Olympians 

Now  to  some  people  this  statement  may  seem  a  wilful 
paradox,  yet  I  believe  it  to  be  true.  The  Olympian 
religion,  radiating  from  Homer  at  the  Panathenaea,  pro- 
duced what  I  will  venture  to  call  exactly  a  religious 
reformation.  Let  us  consider  how,  with  all  its  flaws  and 
falsehoods,  it  was  fitted  to  attempt  such  a  work. 

In  the  first  place  the  Poems  represent  an  Achaian 
tradition,  the  tradition  of  a  Northern  conquering  race, 
organized  on  a  patriarchal  monogamous  system  vehe- 
mently distinct  from  the  matrilinear  customs  of  the 
Aegean  or  Hittite  races,  with  their  polygamy  and 
polyandry,  their  agricultural  rites,  their  sex-emblems 
and  fertility  goddesses.  Contrast  for  a  moment  the 
sort  of  sexless  Valkyrie  who  appears  in  the  Iliad  under 
the  name  of  Athena  with  the  Kore  of  Ephesus,  strangely 
called  Artemis,  a  shapeless  fertility  figure,  covered 
with  innumerable  breasts.  That  suggests  the  contrast 
that  I  mean. 

Secondly,  the  poems  are  by  tradition  aristocratic ; 
they  are  the  literature  of  chieftains,  alien  to  low 
popular  superstition.  True,  the  poems  as  we  have 
them  are  not  Court  poems.  That  error  ought  not 
to  be  so  often  repeated.  As  we  have  them  they  are 
poems  recited  at  a  Panegyris,  or  public  festival.  But 
they  go  back  in  ultimate  origin  to  something  like  lays 
sung  in  a  royal  hall.  And  the  contrast  between  the 
Homeric  gods  and  the  gods  found  outside  Homer  is 
well  compared  by  Mr.  Chadwick  ^  to  the  difference 
^  Chap,  xviii. 


II  THE  OLYMPIAN  CONQUEST  79 

between  the  gods  of  the  Edda  and  the  historical  traces 
of  rehgion  outside  the  Edda.  The  gods  who  feast  with 
Odin  in  Asgard,  forming  an  organized  community  or 
comitatus,  seem  to  be  the  gods  of  the  kings,  distinct 
from  the  gods  of  the  peasants,  cleaner  and  more  war- 
like and  lordlier,  though  in  actual  religious  quality 
much  less  vital. 

Thirdly,  the  poems  in  their  main  stages  are  Ionian, 
and  Ionia  was  for  many  reasons  calculated  to  lead  the 
forward  movement  against  the  Urdummheit.  For  one 
thing,  Ionia  reinforced  the  old  Heroic  tradition,  in 
having  much  the  same  inward  freedom.  The  lonians 
are  the  descendants  of  those  who  fled  from  the  invaders 
across  the  sea,  leaving  their  homes,  tribes,  and  tribal 
traditions.  Wilamowitz  has  well  remarked  how  the 
imagination  of  the  Greek  mainland  is  dominated  by 
the  gigantic  sepulchres  of  unknown  kings,  which  the 
fugitives  to  Asia  had  left  behind  them  and  half 
forgotten.-^ 

Again,  when  the  lonians  settled  on  the  Asiatic  coasts 
they  were  no  doubt  to  some  extent  influenced,  but  they 
were  far  more  repelled  by  the  barbaric  tribes  of  the 
interior.  They  became  conscious,  as  we  have  said,  of 
something  that  was  Hellenic,  as  distinct  from  some- 
thing else  that  was  barbaric,  and  the  Hellenic  part 
of  them  vehemently  rejected  what  struck  them  as 
superstitious,  cruel,  or  unclean.  And  lastly,  we  must 
remember  that  Ionia  was,  before  the  rise  of  Athens, 
not  only  the  most  imaginative  and  intellectual  part  of 
Greece,  but  by  far  the  most  advanced  in  knowledge 
1  Introduction  to  his  edition  of  the  Choephori,  p.  9. 


8o  THE  OLYMPIAN  CONQUEST  ii 

and  culture.  The  Homeric  religion  is  a  step  in  the 
self-realization  of  Greece,  and  such  self-realization 
naturally  took  its  rise  in  Ionia. 

Granted,  then,  that  Homer  was  calculated  to  produce 
a  kind  of  religious  reformation  in  Greece,  what  kind 
of  reformation  was  it  ?  We  are  again  reminded  of 
St.  Paul.  It  was  a  move  away  from  the  '  beggarly 
elements'  towards  some  imagined  person  behind  them. 
The  world  was  conceived  as  neither  quite  without 
external  governance,  nor  as  merely  subject  to  the 
incursions  of  mana  snakes  and  bulls  and  thunder-stones 
and  monsters,  but  as  governed  by  an  organized  body  of 
personal  and  reasoning  rulers,  wise  and  bountiful  fathers, 
like  man  in  mind  and  shape,  only  unspeakably  higher. 

For  a  type  of  this  Olympian  spirit  we  may  take  a 
phenomenon  that  has  perhaps  sometimes  wearied  us  : 
the  reiterated  insistence  in  the  reliefs  of  the  best  period 
on  the  strife  of  men  against  centaurs  or  of  gods  against 
giants.  Our  modern  sympathies  are  apt  to  side 
with  the  giants  and  centaurs.  An  age  of  order  likes 
romantic  violence,  as  landsmen  safe  in  their  houses  like 
storms  at  sea.  But  to  the  Greek,  this  battle  was  full 
of  symbolical  meaning.  It  is  the  strife,  the  ultimate 
victory,  of  human  intelligence,  reason,  and  gentleness, 
against  what  seems  at  first  the  overwhelming  power 
of  passion  and  unguided  strength.  It  is  Hellas  against 
the  brute  world.^ 

^  The  spirit  appears  very  simply  in  Eur.  Ifh.  Taiir.  386  ff.,  where 
Iphigenia  rejects  the  gods  who  demand  human  sacrifice  : 

These  tales  be  false,  false  as  those  feastings  wild 
Of  Tantalus,  and  gods  that  tare  a  child. 


II  THE  OLYMPIAN  CONQUEST  8i 

The  victory  of  Hellenism  over  barbarism,  of  man 
over  beast  :  that  was  the  aim,  but  was  it  ever  accom- 
plished? The  Olympian  gods  as  we  see  them  in  art 
appear  so  calm,  so  perfect,  so  far  removed  from  the 
atmosphere  of  acknowledged  imperfection  and  spiritual 
striving,  that  what  I  am  now  about  to  say  may  again 
seem  a  deliberate  paradox.  It  is  nevertheless  true  that 
the  Olympian  Religion  is  only  to  the  full  intelligible 
and  admirable  if  we  realize  it  as  a  superb  and  baffled 
endeavour,  not  a  telos  or  completion  but  a  movement 
and  effort  of  life. 

We  may  analyse  the  movement  into  three  main 
elements  :  a  moral  expurgation  of  the  old  rites,  an 
attempt  to  bring  order  into  the  old  chaos,  and  lastly 
an  adaptation  to  new  social  needs.  We  will  take  the 
three  in  order. 

In  the  first  place,  it  gradually  swept  out  of  religion,        , 
Dr  at  least  covered  with  a  decent  veil,  that  great  mass 
Df  rites  which  was  concerned  with  the  Food-supply 
and  the  Tribe-supply  and  aimed  at  direct  stimulation 


This  land  of  murderers  to  its  gods  hath  given 
Its  own  lust.     Evil  dwelleth  not  in  heaven. 

Ytt  just  before  she  has  accepted  the  loves  of  Zeus  and  Leto  without 
Dbjection.  '  Leto,  whom  Zeus  loved,  could  never  have  given  birth  to 
;uch  a  monster  ! '  Cf.  Plutarch,  Vit.  Pelop.  xxi,  where  Pelopidas,  in 
rejecting  the  idea  of  a  human  sacrifice,  says :  '  No  high  and  more 
than  human  beings  could  be  pleased  with  so  barbarous  and  unlawful 
I  sacrifice.  It  was  not  the  fabled  Titans  and  Giants  who  ruled 
the  world,  but  one  who  was  a  Father  of  all  gods  and  men.'  Of 
:ourse,  criticism  and  expurgation  of  the  legends  is  too  common 
to  need  illustration.  See  especially  Kaibel,  Daktyloi  Idatoi^  1902, 
p.  512. 

p.  P.  648  F 


82  THE  OLYMPIAN  CONQUEST  ii 

r 
of  generative  processes.^     It  left  only  a  few  reverent 

and  mystic  rituals,  a  few  licensed  outbursts  of  riotous 
indecency  in  comedy,  and  the  agricultural  festivals.  It 
swept  away  what  seems  to  us  a  thing  less  dangerous, 
a  large  part  of  the  worship  of  the  dead.  Such  worship, 
our  evidence  shows  us,  gave  a  loose  rein  to  superstition. 
To  the  Olympian  movement  it  was  vulgar,  it  was  semi- 
barbarous,  it  was  often  bloody.  We  find  that  it  has 
almost  disappeared  from  Homeric  Athens  at  a  time 
when  the  monuments  show  it  still  flourishing  in  un- 
Homeric  Sparta.  The  Olympian  movement  swept 
away  also,  at  least  for  two  splendid  centuries,  the 
worship  of  the  man-god,  with  its  diseased  atmosphere 
of  megalomania  and  blood-lust.^  These  things  return 
with  the  fall  of  Hellenism  ;  but  the  great  period,  as  it 
urges  man  to  use  all  his  powers  of  thought,  of  daring 
and  endurance,  of  social  organization,  so  it  bids  him 
remember  that  he  is  a  man  like  other  men,  subject  to 
the  same  laws  and  bound  to  reckon  with  the  same 
death. 

So  much  for  the  moral  expurgation  :  next  for  the 
bringing  of  intellectual  order.  To  parody  the  words 
of  Anaxagoras,  '  In  the  early  religion  all  things  were 
together,  till  the  Homeric  system  came  and  arranged 
them.' 

We  constantly  find  in  the  Greek  pantheon  beings 
who  can  be  described  as  ttoWcop  ovofMaTcou  fiopiftr)  ju-ia, 
'  one  form  of  many  names.'  Each  tribe,  each  little 
community,  sometimes  one  may  almost  say  each  caste 

^  I  have  touched  on  this  subject  in  an  article,  *  Olympian  Houses/ 
in  the  Albany  Review^  ^9^7 f  P-  201.  ^  ^   q  £^  pp^  158-61. 


II  THE  OLYMPIAN  CONQUEST  85 

— the  Children  of  the  Bards,  the  Children  of  the 
Potters — had  its  own  special  gods.  Now  as  soon  as 
there  was  any  general  '  Sunoikismos '  or  '  Settling- 
together  ',  any  effective  surmounting  of  the  narrowest 
local  barriers,  these  innumerable  gods  tended  to  melt 
into  one  another.  Under  different  historical  circum- 
stances this  process  might  have  been  carried  resolutely 
through  and  produced  an  intelligible  pantheon  in  which 
each  god  had  his  proper  function  and  there  was  no 
overlapping — one  Kore,  one  Kouros,  one  Sun-God,  and 
so  on.  But  in  Greece  that  was  impossible.  Imagina- 
tions had  been  too  vivid,  and  local  types  had  too  often 
become  clearly  personified  and  differentiated.  The 
Maiden  of  Athens,  Athena,  did  no  doubt  absorb  some 
other  Korai,  but  she  could  not  possibly  combine  with 
her  of  Cythera  or  Cyprus,  or  Ephesus,  nor  with  the 
Argive  Kore  or  the  Delian  or  the  Brauronian.  What 
happened  was  that  the  infinite  cloud  of  Maidens  was 
greatly  reduced  and  fell  into  four  or  five  main  types. 
The  Korai  of  Cyprus,  Cythera,  Corinth,  Eryx,  and  some 
other  places  were  felt  to  be  one,  and  became  absorbed 
in  the  great  figure  of  Aphrodite.  Artemis  absorbed 
a  quantity  more,  including  those  of  Delos  and  Brauron, 
of  various  parts  of  Arcadia  and  Sparta,  and  even,  as 
we  saw,  the  fertility  Kore  of  Ephesus.  Doubtless  she 
and  the  Delian  were  originally  much  closer  together, 
but  the  Delian  differentiated  towards  ideal  virginity, 
the  Ephesian  towards  ideal  fruitfulness.  The  Kouroi, 
or  Youths,  in  the  same  way  were  absorbed  into  some 
half-dozen  great  mythological  shapes,  Apollo,  Ares, 
Hermes,  Dionysus,  and  the  like. 


84  THE  0LYA4PIAN  CONQUEST  ii 

As  so  often  in  Greek  development,  we  are  brought 
up  against  the  immense  formative  power  of  fiction  or 
romance.  The  simple  Kore  or  Kouros  was  a  figure  of 
indistinct  outline  with  no  history  or  personality.  Like 
the  Roman  functional  gods,  such  beings  were  hardly 
persons  ;  they  melted  easily  one  into  another.  But 
when  the  Greek  imagination  had  once  done  its  work 
upon  them,  a  figure  like  Athena  or  Aphrodite  had 
become,  for  all  practical  purposes,  a  definite  person, 
almost  as  definite  as  Achilles  or  Odysseus,  as  Macbeth 
or  Falstaff.  They  crystallize  hard.  They  will  no 
longer  melt  or  blend,  at  least  not  at  an  ordinary  tem- 
perature. In  the  fourth  and  third  centuries  we  hear 
a  great  deal  about  the  gods  all  being  one,  '  Zeus  the 
same  as  Hades,  Hades  as  Helios,  Helios  the  same  as 
Dionysus,'  ^  but  the  amalgamation  only  takes  place  in 
the  white  heat  of  ecstatic  philosophy  or  the  rites  of 
religious  mysticism. 

The  best  document  preserved  to  us  of  this  attempt 
to  bring  order  into  Chaos  is  the  poetry  of  Hesiod. 
There  are  three  poems,  all  devoted  to  this  object, 
composed  perhaps  under  the  influence  of  Delphi  and 
certainly  under  that  of  Homer,  and  trying  in  a  quasi- 
Homeric  dialect  and  under  a  quasi-Olympian  system 
to  bring  together  vast  masses  of  ancient  theology 
and  folk-lore  and  scattered  tradition.  The  Theogony 
attempts  to  make  a  pedigree  and  hierarchy  of  the 
Gods ;    7he    Catalogue    of    Women    and    the    Eoiai, 

^  Justin.  Cohort,  c.  15.  But  such  pantheistic  language  is  common 
in  Orphic  and  other  mystic  literature.  See  the  fragments  of  the 
Orphic  ALadrJKai  (p.  144^^.  in  Abel's  Hymni). 


II  THE  OLYMPIAN  CONQUEST  85 

preserved  only  in  scanty  fragments,  attempt  to  fix 
in  canonical  form  the  cloudy  mixture  of  dreams  and 
boasts  and  legends  and  hypotheses  by  which  most 
royal  families  in  central  Greece  recorded  their  descent 
from  a  traditional  ancestress  and  a  conjectural  God. 
The  Works  and  Days  form  an  attempt  to  collect  and 
arrange  the  rules  and  tabus  relating  to  agriculture. 
The  work  of  Hesiod  as  a  whole  is  one  of  the  most  valiant 
failures  in  literature.  The  confusion  and  absurdity 
of  it  are  only  equalled  by  its  strange  helpless  beauty 
and  its  extraordinary  historical  interest.  The  Hesiodic 
system  when  compared  with  that  of  Homer  is  much 
more  explicit,  much  less  expurgated,  infinitely  less 
accomplished  and  tactful.  At  the  back  of  Homer  lay 
the  lordly  warrior-gods  of  the  Heroic  Age,  at  the  back 
of  Hesiod  the  crude  and  tangled  superstitions  of  the 
peasantry  of  the  mainland.  Also  the  Hesiodic  poets 
worked  in  a  comparatively  backward  and  unenlightened 
atmosphere,  the  Homeric  were  exposed  to  the  full  light 
of  Athens. 

The  third  element  in  this  Homeric  reformation  is  an 
attempt  to  make  religion  satisfy  the  needs  of  a  new 
social  order.  The  earliest  Greek  religion  was  clearly 
based  on  the  tribe,  a  band  of  people,  all  in  some  sense 
kindred  and  normally  living  together,  people  with  the 
same  customs,  ancestors,  initiations,  flocks  and  herds 
and  fields.  This  tribal  and  agricultural  religion  can 
hardly  have  maintained  itself  unchanged  at  the 
great  Aegean  centres,  like  Cnossus  and  Mycenae.^    It 

^  I  have  not  attempted  to  consider  the  Cretan  cults.     They  lie 
historically  outside  the  range  of  these  essays,  and  I  am  not  competent 


86  THE  OLYMPIAN  CONQUEST  ii 

certainly  did  not  maintain  itself  among  the  marauding 
chiefs  of  the  heroic  age.  It  bowed  its  head  beneath 
the  sceptre  of  its  own  divine  kings  and  the  armed  heel 
of  its  northern  invaders,  only  to  appear  again  almost 
undamaged  and  unimproved  when  the  kings  were 
fallen  and  the  invaders  sunk  into  the  soil  like  storms 
of  destructive  rain. 

But  it  no  longer  suited  its  environment.  In  the 
age  of  the  migrations  the  tribes  had  been  broken, 
scattered,  re-mixed.  They  had  almost  ceased  to  exist 
as  important  social  entities.  The  social  unit  which  had 
taken  their  place  was  the  political  community  of  men, 
of  whatever  tribe  or  tribes,  who  were  held  together 
in  times  of  danger  and  constant  war  by  means  ot 
a  common  circuit-wall,  a  Polis.-^  The  idea  of  the 
tribe  remained.  In  the  earliest  classical  period  we 
find  every  Greek  city  still  nominally  composed  of 
tribes,  but  the  tribes  are  fictitious.  The  early  city-  ' 
makers  could  still  only  conceive  of  society  on  a  tribal 
basis.      Every    local    or    accidental    congregation    of 

to  deal  with  evidence  that  is  purely  archaeological.  But  in  general 
I  imagine  the  Cretan  religion  to  be  a  development  from  the  religion 
described  in  my  first  essay,  affected  both  by  the  change  in  social 
structure  from  village  to  sea-empire  and  by  foreign,  especially  Egyptian, 
influences.  No  doubt  the  Achaean  gods  were  influenced  on  their  side 
by  Cretan  conceptions,  though  perhaps  not  so  much  as  Ionia  was.  Cf . 
the  Cretan  influences  in  Ionian  vase-painting,  and  e.g.  A.  B.  Cook  on 
'Cretan  Axe-cult  outside  Crete',  Transactions  of  the  Third  International 
Congress  for  the  History  of  Religion,  ii.  184.  See  also  Sir  A.  Evans's 
striking  address  on  '  The  Minoan  and  Mycenaean  Element  in  Hellenic 
Life',  just  published  in  J.  H.  S.  xxxii.  277-297. 
1  See  R.  G.  E.,  pp.  78-80. 


II  THE  OLYMPIAN  CONQUEST  87 

people  who  wish  to  act  together  have  to  invent  an 
imaginary  common  ancestor.  The  clash  between  the 
old  tribal  traditions  that  have  lost  their  meaning, 
though  not  their  sanctity,  and  the  new  duties  imposed 
by  the  actual  needs  of  the  Polis,  leads  to  many  strange 
and  interesting  compromises.  The  famous  constitu- 
tion of  Cleisthenes  shows  several.  An  old  proverb 
expresses  well  the  ordinary  feeling  on  the  subject  : 

*  Whatever  the  City  may  do  ;    but  the  old  custom  is 
the  best.' 

Now  in  the  contest  between  city  and  tribe,  the 
Olympian  gods  had  one  great  negative  advantage. 
They  were  not  tribal  or  local,  and  all  other  gods  were. 
They  were  by  this  time  international,  with  no  strong 
roots  anywhere  except  where  one  of  them  could  be 
identified  with  some  native  god ;  they  were  full  of 
fame  and  beauty  and  prestige.  They  were  ready  to  be 
made  *  Poliouchoi ',  '  City-holders ',  of  any  particular 
city,  still  more  ready  to  be  '  Hellanioi ',  patrons  of  all 
Hellas. 

In  the  working  out  of  these  three  aims  the  Olympian 
religion  achieved  much  :  in  all  three  it  failed.  The 
moral  expurgation  failed  owing  to  the  mere  force  of 
inertia  possessed  by  old  religious  traditions  and  local 
cults.  We  must  remember  how  weak  any  central 
government  was  in  ancient  civilization.  The  power 
and  influence  of  a  highly  civilized  society  were  apt  to 
end  a  few  miles  outside  its  city  wall.     All  through 


88  THE  OLYMPIAN  CONQUEST  ii 

the  backward  parts  of  Greece  obscene  and  cruel  rites 
lingered  on,  the  darker  and  worse  the  further  they  were 
removed  from  the  full  Ught  of  Hellenism. 

But  in  this  respect  the  Olympian  Religion  did  not 
merely  fail :  it  did  worse.  To  make  the  elements  of 
a  nature-religion  human  is  inevitably  to  make  them 
vicious.  There  is  no  great  moral  harm  in  worshipping 
a  thunderstorm,  even  though  the  lightning  strikes  the 
good  and  evil  quite  recklessly.  There  is  no  need  to 
pretend  that  the  Lightning  is  exercising  a  wise  and 
righteous  choice.  But  when  once  you  worship  an 
imaginary  quasi-human  being  who  throws  the  light- 
ning, you  are  in  a  dilemma.  Either  you  have  to  admit 
that  you  are  worshipping  and  flattering  a  being  with 
no  moral  sense,  because  he  happens  to  be  dangerous, 
or  else  you  have  to  invent  reasons  for  his  wrath  against 
the  people  who  happen  to  be  struck.  And  they  are 
pretty  sure  to  be  bad  reasons.  The  god,  if  personal, 
becomes  capricious  and  cruel. 

When  the  Ark  of  Israel  was  being  brought  back  from 
the  Philistines,  the  cattle  slipped  by  the  threshing 
floor  of  Nachon,  and  the  holy  object  was  in  danger 
of  falling.  A  certain  Uzzah,  as  we  all  know,  sprang 
forward  to  save  it  and  was  struck  dead  for  his  pains. 
Now,  if  he  was  struck  dead  by  the  sheer  holiness  of  the 
tabu  object,  the  holiness  stored  inside  it  like  so  much 
electricity,  his  death  was  a  misfortune,  an  interesting 
accident,  and  no  more.^  But  when  it  is  made  into 
the  deliberate  act  of  an  anthropomorphic  god,  who 

^  2  Sam.  vi.  6.  See  S.  Reinach,  Orpheus^  p.  5  (English  Translation, 
P-4)- 


II  THE  OLYMPIAN  CONQUEST  89 

strikes  a  well-intentioned  man  dead  in  explosive  rage 
for  a  very  pardonable  mistake,  a  dangerous  element 
has  been  introduced  into  the  ethics  of  that  religion. 
A  being  who  is  the  moral  equal  of  man  must  not  behave 
like  a  charge  of  dynamite. 

Again,  to  worship  emblems  of  fertility  and  generation, 
as  was  done  in  agricultural  rites  all  through  the  Aegean 
area,  is  in  itself  an  intelligible  and  not  necessarily 
a  degrading  practice.  But  when  those  emblems  are 
somehow  humanized,  and  the  result  is  an  anthropo- 
morphic god  of  enormous  procreative  power  and 
innumerable  amours,  a  religion  so  modified  has  received 
a  death-blow.  The  step  that  was  meant  to  soften  its 
grossness  has  resulted  in  its  moral  degradation.  This 
result  was  intensified  by  another  well-meant  effort  at 
elevation.  The  leading  tribes  of  central  Greece  were,  ^ 
as  we  have  mentioned,  apt  to  count  their  descent  from  j 
some  heroine-ancestress.  Her  consort  was  sometimes 
unknown  and,  in  a  matrilinear  society,  unimportant. 
Sometimes  he  was  a  local  god  or  river.  When  the 
Olympians  came  to  introduce  some  order  and  unity 
among  these  innumerable  local  gods,  the  original  tribal 
ancestor  tended,  naturally  enough,  to  be  identified 
with  Zeus,  Apollo,  or  Poseidon.  The  unfortunate 
Olympians,  whose  system  really  aimed  at  purer  morals 
and  condemned  polygamy  and  polyandry,  are  left  with 
a  crowd  of  consorts  that  would  put  Solomon  to  shame. 

Thus  a  failure  in  the  moral  expurgation  was  deepened 
by  a  failure  in  the  attempt  to  bring  intellectual  order 
into  the  welter  of  primitive  gods.  The  only  satisfac- 
tory end  of  that  effort  would  have  been  monotheism. 


90  THE  OLYMPIAN  CONQUEST  ii 

If  Zeus  had  only  gone  further  and  become  completely, 
once  and  for  all,  the  father  of  all  life,  the  scandalous 
stories  would  have  lost  their  point  and  meaning.  It  is 
curious  how  near  to  monotheism,  and  to  monotheism 
of  a  very  profound  and  impersonal  type,  the  real  reli- 
gion of  Greece  came  in  the  sixth  and  fifth  centuries. 
Many  of  the  philosophers,  Xenophanes,  Parmenides 
and  others,  asserted  it  clearly  or  assumed  it  without 
hesitation.  Aeschylus,  Euripides,  Plato,  in  their  deeper 
moments  point  the  same  road.  Indeed  a  metaphysician 
might  hold  that  their  theology  is  far  deeper  than  that 
to  which  we  are  accustomed,  since  they  seem  not  to 
make  any  particular  difference  between  ol  Oeoi  and 
6  6e6<;  or  to  Oelov.  They  do  not  instinctively  suppose 
that  the  human  distinctions  between  '  he '  and  '  it ', 
or  between  '  one  '  and  '  many  ',  apply  to  the  divine. 
Certainly  Greek  monotheism,  had  it  really  carried 
the  day,  would  have  been  a  far  more  philosophic 
thing  than  the  tribal  and  personal  monotheism  of 
the  Hebrews.  But  unfortunately  too  many  hard- 
caked  superstitions,  too  many  tender  and  sensitive 
associations,  were  linked  with  particular  figures  in 
the  pantheon  or  particular  rites  which  had  brought 
the  worshippers  religious  peace.  If  there  had  been 
some  Hebrew  prophets  about,  and  a  tyrant  or  two, 
progressive  and  bloody-minded,  to  agree  with  them, 
polytheism  might  perhaps  actually  have  been  stamped 
out  in  Greece  at  one  time.  But  Greek  thought, 
always  sincere  and  daring,  was  seldom  brutal,  seldom 
ruthless  or  cruel.  The  thinkers  of  the  great  period 
felt  their  own  way  gently  to  the  Holy  of  Holies,  and 


iMt  O^  A 


1    ^        A.  J  r      '       'L 


II  THE  OLYMPIAN  CONQUEST  91 

did  not  try  to  compel  others  to  take  the  same  way. 
Greek  theology,  whether  popular  or  philosophical, 
seldom  denied  any  god,  seldom  forbade  any  worship. 
What  it  tried  to  do  was  to  identify  every  new  god  with 
some  aspect  of  one  of  the  old  ones,  and  the  result  was 
naturally  confusion.  Apart  from  the  Epicurean  school, 
which  though  powerful  was  always  unpopular,  the 
religious  thought  of  later  antiquity  for  the  most  part 
took  refuge  in  a  sort  of  apotheosis  of  good  taste,  in 
which  the  great  care  was  not  to  hurt  other  people's 
feelings,  or  else  it  collapsed  into  helpless  mysticism. 

The  attempt  to  make  Olympianism  a  religion  of  the 
Polis  failed  also.  The  Olympians  did  not  belong  to 
any  particular  city  :  they  were  too  universal ;  and  no 
particular  city  had  a  very  positive  faith  in  them. 
The  actual  Polis  was  real  and  tangible,  the  Homeric 
gods  a  little  alien  and  literary.  The  City  herself  was 
a  most  real  power  ;  and  the  true  gods  of  the  City,  who 
had  grown  out  of  the  soil  and  the  wall,  were  simply 
the  City  herself  in  her  eternal  and  personal  aspect,  as 
mother  and  guide  and  lawgiver,  the  worshipped  and 
beloved  being  whom  each  citizen  must  defend  even 
to  the  death.  As  the  Kouros  of  his  day  emerged  from 
the  social  group  of  Kouroi,  or  the  Aphiktor  from  the 
band  of  suppliants,  in  like  fashion  rj  lloXtag  or  6  IloXteus 
emerged  as  a  personification  or  projection  of  the  city. 
7]  UoXids  in  Athens  was  of  course  Athena  ;  6  IToXtev? 
might  as  well  be  called  Zeus  as  anything  else.  In 
reaHty  such  beings  fall  into  the  same  class  as  the  hero 
Argos  or  '  Korinthos  son  of  Zeus '.  The  City  worship 
was  narrow  ;    yet  to  broaden  it  was,  except  in  some 


92  THE  OLYMPIAN  CONQUEST  ii 

rare  minds,  to  sap  its  life.  The  ordinary  man  finds  it 
impossible  to  love  his  next-door  neighbours  except 
by  hating  those  who  are  next-door-but-one. 

It  proved  difficult  even  in  a  city  like  Athens  to  have 
gods  that  would  appeal  to  the  loyalty  of  all  Attica.  On 
the  Acropolis  at  Athens  there  seem  originally  to  have 
been  Athena  and  some  Kouros  corresponding  with  her, 
some  Waterer  of  the  earth,  like  Erechtheus.  Then 
as  Attica  was  united  and  brought  under  the  lead  of 
its  central  city,  the  gods  of  the  outlying  districts  began 
to  claim  places  on  the  Acropolis.  Pallas,  the  thunder- 
maid  of  Pallene  in  the  south,  came  to  form  a  joint 
personality  with  Athena.  Oinoe,  a  town  in  the  north- 
east, on  the  way  from  Delos  to  Delphi,  had  for  its 
special  god  a  '  Pythian  Apollo  ' ;  when  Oinoe  became 
Attic  a  place  for  the  Pythian  Apollo  had  to  be  found 
on  the  Acropolis.  Dionysus  came  from  Eleutherae, 
Demeter  and  Kore  from  Eleusis,  Theseus  himself 
perhaps  from  Marathon  or  even  from  Trozen.  They 
were  all  given  official  residences  on  Athena's  rock, 
and  Athens  in  return  sent  out  Athena  to  new 
temples  built  for  her  in  Prasiae  and  Sunion  and 
various  colonies.-^  This  development  came  step  by 
step  and  grew  out  of  real  worships.  It  was  quite 
different  from  the  wholesale  adoption  of  a  body  of 
non-national,  poetical  gods :  yet  even  this  develop- 
ment was  too  artificial,  too  much  stamped  with  the 
marks  of  expediency  and  courtesy  and  compromise. 
It  could  not  live.  The  personalities  of  such  gods 
vanish  away ;    their  prayers  become  prayers  to  '  all 

1  Cf.  Sam  Wide  in  Gercke  and  Norden's  Handbuch,  ii.  217-19. 


II  THE  OLYMPIAN  CONQUEST  95 

gods  and  goddesses  of  the  City ' — ^eot?  kol  Oefcn  iracrL 
Koi  TTacrrjcri ;  those  who  remain,  chiefly  Athena  and 
Theseus,  only  mean  Athens. 

What  then,  amid  all  this  failure,  did  the  Olympian 
religion  really  achieve  ?  First,  it  debarbarized  the 
worship  of  the  leading  states  of  Greece — not  of  all 
Greece,  since  antiquity  had  no  means  of  spreading 
knowledge  comparable  to  ours.  It  reduced  the  horrors 
of  the  '  Urdummheit ',  for  the  most  part,  to  a  ro- 
mantic memory,  and  made  religion  no  longer  a  mortal 
danger  to  humanity.  Unlike  many  religious  systems,  it 
generally  permitted  progress ;  it  encouraged  not  only 
the  obedient  virtues  but  the  daring  virtues  as  well. 
It  had  in  it  the  spirit  that  saves  from  disaster,  that 
knows  itself  fallible  and  thinks  twice  before  it  hates 
and  curses  and  persecutes.  It  wrapped  religion  in 
Sophrosyne. 

Again,  it  worked  for  concord  and  fellow-feeling 
throughout  the  Greek  communities.  It  is,  after  all, 
a  good  deal  to  say,  that  in  Greek  history  we  find 
almost  no  warring  of  sects,  no  mutual  tortures  or  even 
blasphemies.  With  many  ragged  edges,  with  many 
weaknesses,  it  built  up  something  like  a  united  Hellenic 
religion  to  stand  against  the  '  beastly  devices  of  the 
heathen '.  And  after  all,  if  we  are  inclined  on  the 
purely  religious  side  to  judge  the  Olympian  system 
harshly,  we  must  not  forget  its  sheer  beauty.  Truth, 
no  doubt,  is  greater  than  beauty.  But  in  many  matters 
beauty  can  be  attained  and  truth  cannot.  All  we  know 
is  that  when  the  best  minds  seek  for  truth  the  result 
is  apt  to  be  beautiful.     It  was  a  great  thing  that  men 


94  THE  OLYMPIAN  CONQUEST  ii 

should  envisage  the  world  as  governed,  not  by  Giants 
and  Gorgons  and  dealers  in  eternal  torture,  but  by 
some  human  and  more  than  human  Understanding 
(Bvvecri';),^  by  beings  of  quiet  splendour  like  many  a 
classical  Zeus  and  Hermes  and  Demeter.  If  Olym- 
pianism  v^as  not  a  religious  faith,  it  was  at  least  a  vital 
force  in  the  shaping  of  cities  and  societies  which  remain 
after  two  thousand  years  a  type  to  the  world  of  beauty 
and  freedom  and  high  endeavour.  Even  the  stirring 
of  its  ashes,  when  they  seemed  long  cold,  had  power 
to  produce  something  of  the  same  result ;  for  the 
classicism  of  the  Italian  Renaissance  is  a  child,  however 
fallen,  of  the  Olympian  spirit. 

Of  course  I  recognize  that  beauty  is  not  the  same  as 
faith.  There  is,  in  one  sense,  far  more  faith  in  some 
hideous  miracle-working  icon  which  sends  out  starving 
peasants  to  massacre  Jews  than  in  the  Athena  of  Phidias. 
Yet,  once  we  have  rid  our  minds  of  trivial  mythology, 
there  is  religion  in  Athena  also.  Athena  is  an  ideal, 
an  ideal  and  a  mystery  ;  the  ideal  of  wisdom,  of  inces- 
sant labour,  of  almost  terrifying  purity,  seen  through 
the  light  of  some  mystic  and  spiritual  devotion  like,  but 
transcending,  the  love  of  man  for  woman.  Or,  if  the 
way  of  Athena  is  too  hard  for  us  common  men,  it  is  not 
hard  to  find  a  true  religious  ideal  in  such  a  figure  as 
Persephone.  In  Persephone  there  is  more  of  pathos  and 
of  mystery.     She  has  more  recently  entered  the  calm 

^  The  Hw€(7t9  to  which  Euripides  prays  in  Ar.  Frogs,  893,  and  in 
which  the  Chorus  finds  it  hard  to  beHeve,  Hippolytus,  1105.  Cf.  Ipk. 
Jul.  394,  1 189  ;  Here.  655  ;  also  the  ideas  in  Suppl.  203,  Eur.  Fr.  52,  9, 
where  Ewco-is  is  implanted  in  man  by  a  special  grace  of  Go4. 


II  THE  OLYMPIAN  CONQUEST  95 

ranks  of  Olympus  ;  the  old  liturgy  of  the  dying  and 
re-risen  Year-bride  still  clings  to  her.  If  Religion  is 
that  which  brings  us  into  relation  with  the  great 
world-forces,  there  is  the  very  heart  of  life  in  this 
home-coming  Bride  of  the  underworld,  life  with  its 
broken  hopes,  its  disaster,  its  new-found  spiritual  joy: 
life  seen  as  Mother  and  Daughter,  not  a  thing  con- 
tinuous and  unchanging  but  shot  through  with  parting 
and  death,  life  as  a  great  love  or  desire  ever  torn  asunder 
and  ever  renewed. 

'  But  stay,'  a  reader  may  object  :    '  is  not  this  the 
Persephone,  the  Athena,  of  modern  sentiment?    Are 
these  figures  really  the  goddesses  of  the  Iliad  and  of 
Sophocles  ? '   The  truth  is,  I  think,  that  they  are  neither 
the  one  nor  the  other.     They  are  the  goddesses  of 
ancient  reflection  and  allegory  ;   the  goddesses,  that  is, 
of  the  best  and  most  characteristic  worship  that  these 
idealized  creations  awakened.     What  we  have  treated 
hitherto  as  the  mortal  weakness  of  the  Olympians,  the 
fact  that  they  have  no  roots  in  any  particular  soil,  little 
hold  on  any  definite  primaeval  cult,  has  turned  out 
to  be  their  peculiar  strength.     We  must  not  think  of 
allegory  as  a  late  post-classical  phenomenon  in  Greece. 
It  begins  at  least  as  early  as  Pythagoras  and  Heraclitus, 
perhaps  as  early  as  Hesiod :  for  Hesiod  seems  sometimes 
to  be  turning  allegory  back  into  myth.     The  Olym- 
pians, cut  loose  from  the  soil,  enthroned  only  in  men's 
free  imagination,  have  two  special  regions  which  they 
have  made  their  own  :   mythology  and  allegory.     The 
mythology  drops   for   the  most   part  very  early  out 
of  practical    religion.      Even    in   Homer  we   find  it 


96  THE  OLYMPIAN  CONQUEST  ii 

expurgated ;  in  Pindar,  Aeschylus  and  Xenophanes  it 
is  expurgated,  denied  and  allegorized.  The  myths 
survive  chiefly  as  material  for  literature,  the  shapes  of 
the  gods  themselves  chiefly  as  material  for  art.  They 
are  both  of  them  objects  not  of  belief  but  of  imagi- 
nation. Yet  when  the  religious  imagination  of  Greece 
deepens  it  twines  itself  still  round  these  gracious  and 
ever-moving  shapes ;  the  Zeus  of  Aeschylus  moves  on 
into  the  Zeus  of  Plato  or  of  Cleanthes  or  of  Marcus 
Aurelius.  Hermes,  Athena,  Apollo,  all  have  their 
long  spiritual  history.  They  are  but  little  impeded  by 
the  echoes  of  the  old  monstrous  mythology  ;  still  less 
by  any  local  roots  or  sectional  prejudices  or  compulsory 
details  of  ritual.  As  the  more  highly  educated  mind 
of  Greece  emerged  from  a  particular,  local,  tribal, 
conception  of  religion,  the  old  denationalized  Olym- 
pians were  ready  to  receive  her. 

/  The  real  religion  of  the  fifth  century  was,  as  we  have 
said,  a  devotion  to  the  City  itself.  It  is  expressed 
often  in  Aeschylus  and  Sophocles,  again  and  again  with 
more  discord  and  more  criticism  in  Euripides  and 
Plato  ;  for  the  indignant  blasphemies  of  the  Gorgias 
and  the  Troades  bear  the  same  message  as  the  ideal 
patriotism  of  the  Republic.  It  is  expressed  best 
perhaps,  and  that  without  mention  of  the  name  of 
a  single  god,  in  the  great  Funeral  Speech  of  Pericles. 
It  is  higher  than  most  modern  patriotism  because  it  is 
set  upon  higher  ideals.  It  is  more  fervid  because  the 
men  practising  it  lived  habitually  nearer  to  the  danger- 
point,  and,  when  they  spoke  of  dying  for  the  City, 
spoke  of  a  thing  they  had  faced  last  week  and  might 


II  THE  OLYMPIAN  CONQUEST  97 

face  again  to-morrow.  It  was  more  religious  because  of 
the  unconscious  mysticism  in  which  it  is  clothed  even 
by  such  hard  heads  as  Pericles  and  Thucydides,  the 
mysticism  of  men  in  the  presence  of  some  fact  for 
which  they  have  no  words  great  enough.  Yet  for  all 
its  intensity  it  was  condemned  by  its  mere  narrowness. 
By  the  fourth  century  the  average  Athenian  must 
have  recognized  what  philosophers  had  recognized  long 
before,  that  a  religion,  to  be  true,  must  be  universal 
and  not  the  privilege  of  a  particular  people.  As  soon 
as  the  Stoics  had  proclaimed  the  world  to  be  *  one 
great  City  of  gods  and  men  ',  the  only  Gods  with  which 
Greece  could  satisfactorily  people  that  City  were  the 
idealized  band  of  the  old  Olympians. 

They  are  artists'  dreams,  ideals,  allegories ;  they 
are  symbols  of  something  beyond  themselves.  They 
are  Gods  of  half-rejected  tradition,  of  unconscious 
make-believe,  of  aspiration.  They  are  gods  to  whom 
doubtful  philosophers  can  pray,  with  all  a  philosopher's 
due  caution,  as  to  so  many  radiant  and  heart-searching 
hypotheses.  They  are  not  gods  in  whom  any  one 
believes  as  a  hard  fact.  Does  this  condemn  them  ? 
Or  is  it  just  the  other  way?  Is  it  perhaps  that  the 
difference  between  Religion  and  Superstition  lies 
exactly  in  this,  that  Superstition  degrades  its  worship 
by  turning  its  beliefs  into  so  many  statements  of  brute 
fact,  on  which  it  must  needs  act  without  question, 
without  striving,  without  any  respect  for  others  or  any 
desire  for  higher  or  fuller  truth  ?  It  is  only  an  accident 
— though  perhaps  an  invariable  accident — that  all  the 
supposed  facts  are  false.     In  Religion,  however  precious 

p.  r.  648  G 


98  THE  OLYMPIAN  CONQUEST  ii 

you  may  consider  the  truth  you  draw  from  it,  you 
know  that  it  is  a  truth  seen  dimly,  and  possibly  seen 
by  others  better  than  by  you.  You  know  that  all  your 
creeds  and  definitions  are  merely  metaphors,  attempts 
to  use  human  language  for  a  purpose  for  which  it  was 
never  made.  Your  concepts  are,  by  the  nature  of 
things,  inadequate  ;  the  truth  is  not  in  you  but  beyond 
you,  a  thing  not  conquered  but  still  to  be  pursued. 
Something  like  this,  I  take  it,  was  the  character  of 
the  Olympian  Religion  in  the  higher  minds  of  later 
Greece.  Its  gods  could  awaken  man's  worship  and 
strengthen  his  higher  aspirations ;  but  at  heart  they 
knew  themselves  to  be  only  metaphors.  As  the  most 
beautiful  image  carved  by  man  was  not  the  god,  but 
only  a  symbol,  to  help  towards  conceiving  the  god ;  ^ 

^  Cf .  the  beautiful  defence  of  idols  by  Maximus  of  Tyre,  Or.  viii  (in 
Wilamowitz's  Lesehuch,  ii,  338  ff.).    I  quote  the  last  paragraph  : 

'  God  Himself,  the  father  and  fashioner  of  all  that  is,  older  than  the 
Sun  or  the  Sky,  greater  than  time  and  eternity  and  all  the  flow  of  being, 
is  unnameable  by  any  lawgiver,  unutterable  by  any  voice,  not  to  be 
seen  by  any  eye.  But  we,  being  unable  to  apprehend  His  essence,  use 
the  help  of  sounds  and  names  and  pictures,  of  beaten  gold  and  ivory 
and  silver,  of  plants  and  rivers,  mountain-peaks  and  torrents,  yearning 
for  the  knowledge  of  Him,  and  in  our  weakness  naming  all  that  is 
beautiful  in  this  world  after  His  nature — just  as  happens  to  earthly 
lovers.  To  them  the  most  beautiful  sight  will  be  the  actual  lineaments 
of  the  beloved,  but  for  remembrance'  sake  they  will  be  happy  in  the 
§ight  of  a  lyre,  a  little  spear,  a  chair,  perhaps,  or  a  running-ground,  or 
anything  in  the  world  that  wakens  the  memory  of  the  beloved.  Why 
should  I  further  examine  and  pass  judgement  about  Images  ?  Let 
men  know  what  is  divine  {to  Bfiov  yeVos),  let  them  know :  that  is  all. 
If  a  Greek  is  stirred  to  the  remembrance  of  God  by  the  art  of  Pheidias, 
an  Egyptian  by  paying  worship  to  animals,  another  man  by  a  river, 


II  THE  OLYMPIAN  CONQUEST  99 

so  the  god  himself,  when  conceived,  was  not  the  reality 
but  only  a  symbol  to  help  towards  conceiving  the 
reality.  That  was  the  work  set  before  them.  Mean- 
time they  issued  no  creeds  that  contradicted  knowledge, 
no  commands  that  made  man  sin  against  his  own  inner 
light. 

another  by  fire — I  have  no  anger  for  their  divergences ;  only  let  them 
know,  let  them  love,  let  them  remember.* 


G  2 


Ill 

THE  FAILURE  OF  NERVE 


Ill 

THE  FAILURE  OF  NERVE 

Any  one  who  turns  from  the  great  writers  of  classical 
Athens,  say  Sophocles  or  Aristotle,  to  those  of  the 
Christian  era  must  be  conscious  of  a  great  difference 
in  tone.  There  is  a  change  in  the  whole  relation  of 
the  writer  to  the  world  about  him.  The  new  quality 
is  not  specifically  Christian  :  it  is  just  as  marked  in  the 
Gnostics  and  Mithras-worshippers  as  in  the  Gospels 
and  the  Apocalypse,  in  Julian  and  Plotinus  as  in 
Gregory  and  Jerome./  It  is  hard  to  describe.  It  is  a 
rise  of  asceticism,  of  mysticism,  in  a  sense,  of  pessimism  ; 
a  loss  of  self-confidence,  of  hope  in  this  life  and  of  faith 
in  normal  human  effort ;  a  despair  of  patient  inquiry, 
a  cry  for  infallible  revelation  ;  an  indifference  to  the 
welfare  of  the  state,  a  conversion  of  the  soul  to  God. 
It  is  an  atmosphere  in  which  the  aim  of  the  good  man 
is  not  so  much  to  live  justly,  to  help  the  society  to 
which  he  belongs  and  enjoy  the  esteem  of  his  fellow 
creatures ;  but  rather,  by  means  of  a  burning  faith,  by 
contempt  for  the  world  and  its  standards,  by  ecstasy, 
suffering  and  martyrdom,  to  be  granted  pardon  for 
his  unspeakable  unworthiness,  his  immeasurable  sins. 
There  is  an  intensifying  of  certain  spiritual  emotions ; 
an  increase  of  sensitiveness,  a  failure  of  nerve. 


104  THE  FAILURE  OF  NERVE  iii 

Now  this  antithesis  is  often  exaggerated  by  the 
admirers  of  one  side  or  the  other.  A  hundred  people 
write  as  if  Sophocles  had  no  mysticism  and  practically 
speaking  no  conscience.  Half  a  dozen  retort  as  if 
St.  Paul  had  no  public  spirit  and  no  common  sense. 
I  have  protested  often  against  this  exaggeration  ;  but, 
stated  reasonably,  as  a  change  of  proportion  and  not 
a  creation  of  new  hearts,  the  antithesis  is  certainly 
based  on  fact.  The  historical  reasons  for  it  are  sug- 
gested above,  in  the  first  of  these  essays. 

My  description  of  this  complicated  change  is, 
of  course,  inadequate,  but  not,  I  hope,  one-sided. 
I  do  not  depreciate  the  religions  that  followed  on 
this  movement  by  describing  the  movement  itself  as 
a  *  failure  of  nerve  '.  Mankind  has  not  yet  decided 
which  of  two  opposite  methods  leads  to  the  fuller  and 
deeper  knowledge  of  the  world  :  the  patient  and 
sympathetic  study  of  the  good  citizen  who  lives  in  it, 
or  the  ecstatic  vision  of  the  saint  who  rejects  it.  But 
probably  most  Christians  are  inclined  to  believe  that 
without  some  failure  and  sense  of  failure,  without  a 
contrite  heart  and  conviction  of  sin,  man  can  hardly 
attain  the  religious  life.  I  can  imagine  an  historian  of 
this  temper  believing  that  the  period  we  are  about 
to  discuss  was  a  necessary  softening  of  human  pride, 
a  Preparatio  Evangelic  a} 

^  Mr.  Marett  has  pointed  out  that  this  conception  has  its  roots 
deep  in  primitive  human  nature  :  7he  Birth  of  Humility^  Oxford,  1910, 
p.  17.  '  It  would,  perhaps,  be  fanciful  to  say  that  man  tends  to  run 
away  from  the  sacred  as  uncanny,  to  cower  before  it  as  secret,  and  to 
prostrate  himself  before  it  as  tabu.    On  the  other  hand,  it  seems  plain 


Ill  THE  FAILURE  OF  NERVE  105 

I  am  concerned  in  this  paper  with  the  lower  country- 
lying  between  two  great  ranges.  The  one  range  is 
Greek  Philosophy,  culminating  in  Plato,  Aristotle,  the  / 
Porch,  and  the  Garden  ;  the  other  is  Christianity, 
culminating  in  St.  Paul  and  his  successors.  The  one 
is  the  work  of  Hellas,  using  some  few  foreign  elements  ; 
the  second  is  the  work  of  Hellenistic  culture  on  a 
Hebrew  stock.  The  books  of  Christianity  are  Greek, 
the  philosophical  background  is  Hellenistic,  the  result 
of  the  interplay,  in  the  free  atmosphere  of  Greek 
philosophy,  of  religious  ideas  derived  from  Egypt, 
Anatolia,  Syria,  and  Babylon.  The  preaching  is 
carried  on  in  Greek  among  the  Greek-speaking  work- 
men of  the  great  manufacturing  and  commercial  cities. 

that  to  these  three  negative  qualities  of  the  sacred  taken  together 
there  corresponds  on  the  part  of  man  a  certain  negative  attitude  of 
mind.  Psychologists  class  the  feehngs  bound  up  with  flight,  covi^ering, 
and  prostration  under  the  common  head  of  "  asthenic  emotion  ".  In 
plain  English  they  are  all  forms  of  heart-sinking,  of  feeling  unstrung. 
This  general  type  of  innate  disposition  would  seem  to  be  the  psycho- 
logical basis  of  Humility.  Taken  in  its  social  setting,  the  emotion  will, 
of  course,  show  endless  shades  of  complexity ;  for  it  will  be  excited, 
and  again  will  find  practical  expression,  in  all  sorts  of  ways.  Under 
these  varying  conditions,  however,  it  is  reasonable  to  suppose  that  what 
Mr.  McDougall  would  call  the  "central  part"  of  the  experience  remains 
very  much  the  same.  In  face  of  the  sacred  the  normal  man  is  visited 
by  a  heart-sinking,  a  wave  of  asthenic  emotion.'  Mr.  Marett  con- 
tinues :  '  If  that  were  all,  however.  Religion  would  be  a  matter  of  pure 
fear.  But  it  is  not  all.  There  is  yet  the  positive  side  of  the  sacred 
to  be  taken  into  account.'  It  is  worth  remarking  also  that  Schleier- 
macher  (1767-1834)  placed  the  essence  of  religion  in  the  feeling  of 
absolute  dependence  without  attempting  to  define  the  object  towards 
which  it  was  directed. 


io6  THE  FAILURE  OF  NERVE  m 

The  first  preachers  are  Jews  :  the  central  scene  is 
set  in  Jerusalem.  I  wish  in  this  essay  to  indicate  how 
a  period  of  religious  history,  which  seems  broken,  is 
really  continuous,  and  to  trace  the  lie  of  the  main 
valleys  which  lead  from  the  one  range  to  the  other, 
through  a  large  and  imperfectly  explored  territory. 

The  territory  in  question  is  the  so-called  Hellenistic 
Age,  the  period  during  which  the  Schools  of  Greece 
were  '  hellenizing  '  the  world.  It  is  a  time  of  great 
enlightenment,  of  vigorous  propaganda,  of  high  impor- 
tance to  history.  It  is  a  time  full  of  great  names :  in 
one  school  of  philosophy  alone  we  have  Zeno,  Cleanthes, 
Chrysippus,  Panaetius,  Posidonius.  Yet,  curiously 
enough,  it  is  represented  in  our  tradition  by  something 
very  like  a  mere  void.  There  are  practically  no  com- 
plete books  preserved,  only  fragments  and  indirect 
quotations.  Consequently  in  the  search  for  informa- 
tion about  this  age  we  must  throw  our  nets  wide. 
Beside  books  and  inscriptions  of  the  Hellenistic  period 
proper  I  have  drawn  on  Cicero,  Pliny,  Seneca,  and  the 
like  for  evidence  about  their  teachers  and  masters. 
I  have  used  many  Christian  and  Gnostic  documents 
and  works  like  the  Corpus  of  Hermetic  writings  and 
the  Mithras  Liturgy.  Among  modern  writers  I  must 
acknowledge  a  special  debt  to  the  researches  of  Diete- 
rich,  Cumont,  Bousset,  Wendland,  and  Reitzenstein. 

The  Hellenistic  Age  seems  at  first  sight  to  have 
entered  on  an  inheritance  such  as  our  speculative 
Anarchists  sometimes  long  for,  a  tabula  rasa^  on  which 
a  new  and  highly  gifted  generation  of  thinkers  might 


Ill  THE  FAILURE  OF  NERVE  107 

write  clean  and  certain  the  book  of  their  discoveries 
about  life — ^what  Herodotus  would  call  their  ^Historic '. 
For,  as  we  have  seen  in  the  last  essay,  it  is  clear  that  by 
the  time  of  Plato  the  traditional  religion  of  the  Greek 
states  was,  if  taken  at  its  face  value,  a  bankrupt  concern. 
There  was  hardly  one  aspect  in  which  it  could  bear 
criticism  ;  and  in  the  kind  of  test  that  chiefly  matters, 
the  satisfaction  of  men's  ethical  requirements  and 
aspirations,  it  was  if  anything  weaker  than  elsewhere. 
Now  a  religious  belief  that  is  scientifically  preposterous 
may  still  have  a  long  and  comfortable  life  before  it. 
Any  worshipper  can  suspend  the  scientific  part  of  his 
mind  while  worshipping.  But  a  religious  belief  that 
is  morally  contemptible  is  in  serious  danger,  because 
when  the  religious  emotions  surge  up  the  moral 
emotions  are  not  far  away.  And  the  clash  cannot  be 
hidden. 

This  collapse  of  the  traditional  religion  of  Greece 
might  not  have  mattered  so  much  if  the  form  of  Greek 
social  life  had  remained.  If  a  good  Greek  had  his 
Polls,  he  had  an  adequate  substitute  in  most  respects 
for  any  mythological  gods.  But  the  Polls  too  fell 
"^  with  the  rise  of  Macedon.  It  fell,  perhaps,  not  from 
any  special  spiritual  fault  of  its  own ;  it  had  few  faults 
except  its  fatal  narrowness ;  but  simply  because  there 
now  existed  another  social  whole,  which,  whether 
higher  or  lower  in  civilization,  was  at  any  rate  utterly 
superior  in  brute  force  and  in  money.  Devotion  to  the 
Polls  lost  its  reality  when  the  PoHs,  with  all  that  it 
represented  of  rights  and  laws  and  ideals  of  Life,  lay 
at  the  mercy  of  a  mihtary  despot,  who  might,  of  course, 


io8  THE  FAILURE  OF  NERVE  in 

be  a  hero,  but  might  equally  well  be  a  vulgar  sot  or 
a  corrupt  adventurer. 

What  the  succeeding  ages  built  upon  the  ruins  of 
the  Polis  is  not  our  immediate  concern.  In  the  realm 
of  thought,  on  the  whole,  the  Polis  triumphed.  Aristotle 
based  his  social  theory  on  the  Polis,  not  the  nation. 
Dicaearchus,  Didymus,  and  Posidonius  followed  him, 
and  we  still  use  his  language.  Rome  herself  was  a 
Polis,  as  well  as  an  Empire.  And  Professor  Haverfield 
has  pointed  out  that  a  City  has  more  chance  of  taking 
in  the  whole  world  to  its  freedoms  and  privileges  than 
a  Nation  has  of  making  men  of  alien  birth  its  com- 
patriots. A  Jew  of  Tarsus  could  easily  be  granted  the 
civic  rights  of  Rome  :  he  could  never  have  been 
made  an  Italian  or  Frenchman.  The  Stoic  ideal 
of  the  World  as  '  one  great  City  of  Gods  and  Men ' 
has  not  been  surpassed  by  any  ideal  based  on  the 
Nation. 

What  we  have  to  consider  is  the  general  trend  of 
religious  thought  from,  say,  the  Peripatetics  to  the 
Gnostics.  It  is  a  fairly  clear  history.  A  soil  once 
teeming  with  wild  weeds  was  to  all  appearance  swept 
bare  and  made  ready  for  new  sowing  ;  skilled  gardeners 
chose  carefully  the  best  of  herbs  and  plants  and  tended 
the  garden  sedulously.  But  the  bounds  of  the  garden 
kept  spreading  all  the  while  into  strange  untended 
ground,  and  even  within  the  original  walls  the  weeding 
had  been  hasty  and  incomplete.  At  the  end  of  a  few 
generations  all  was  a  wilderness  of  weeds  again,  weeds 
rank  and  luxuriant  and  sometimes  extremely  beautiful, 
with  a  half-strangled  garden  flower  or  two  gleaming 


Ill  THE  FAILURE  OF  NERVE  lOg 

here  and  there  in  the  tangle  of  them.  Does  that 
comparison  seem  disrespectful  to  religion?  Is  philo- 
sophy all  flowers  and  traditional  belief  all  weeds  ?  Well, 
think  what  a  weed  is.  It  is  only  a  name  for  all  the  natural 
wild  vegetation  which  the  earth  sends  up  of  herself, 
which  lives  and  will  live  without  the  conscious  labour 
of  man.  The  flowers  are  what  we  keep  alive  with 
difficulty ;   the  weeds  are  what  conquer  us. 

It  has  been  well  observed  by  Zeller  that  the 
great  weakness  of  all  ancient  thought,  not  excepting 
Socratic  thought,  was  that  instead  of  appealing  to 
objective  experiment  it  appealed  to  some  subjective 
sense  of  fitness.  There  were  exceptions  of  course : 
Democritus,  Eratosthenes,  Hippocrates,  and  to  a  great 
extent  Aristotle.  But  in  general  there  was  a  strong 
tendency  to  follow  Plato  in  supposing  that  people  could 
really  solve  questions  by  an  appeal  to  their  inner 
consciousness.  One  result  of  this,  no  doubt,  was  a 
tendency  to  lay  too  much  stress  on  mere  agreement. 
It  is  obvious,  when  one  thinks  about  it,  that  quite  often 
a  large  number  of  people  who  know  nothing  about 
a  subject  will  all  agree  and  all  be  wrong.  Yet  we  find 
the  most  radical  of  ancient  philosophers  unconsciously 
dominated  by  the  argument  ex  consensu  gentium.  It 
is  hard  to  find  two  more  uncompromising  thinkers 
than  Zeno  and  Epicurus.  Yet  both  of  them,  when 
they  are  almost  free  from  the  popular  superstitions, 
when  they  have  constructed  complete  systems  which, 
if  not  absolutely  logic-proof,  are  calculated  at  least 
to  keep  out  the  weather  for  a  century  or  so,  open 
curious  side-doors  at  the  last  moment  and  let  in  all 


no  THE  FAILURE  OF  NERVE  m 

the  gods  of  mythology.-^  True,  they  are  admitted  as 
suspicious  characters,  and  under  promise  of  good 
behaviour.  Epicurus  explains  that  they  do  not  and 
cannot  do  anything  whatever  to  anybody ;  Zeno 
explains  that  they  are  not  anthropomorphic,  and  are 
only  symbols  or  emanations  or  subordinates  of  the  all- 
ruling  Unity  ;  both  parties  get  rid  of  the  myths.  But 
the  two  great  reformers  have  admitted  a  dangerous 
principle.  The  general  consensus  of  humanity,  they 
say,  shows  that  there  are  gods,  and  gods  which  in 
mind,  if  not  also  in  visual  appearance,  resemble  man. 
Epicurus  succeeded  in  barring  the  door,  and  admitted 
nothing  more.  But  the  Stoics  presently  found  them- 
selves admitting  or  insisting  that  the  same  consensus 
proved  the  existence  of  daemons,  of  witchcraft,  of 
divination,  and  when  they  combined  with  the  Platonic 
school,  of  more  dangerous  elements  still. 

I  take  the  Stoics  and  Epicureans  as  the  two  most 
radical  schools.  On  the  whole  both  of  them  fought 
steadily  and  strongly  against  the  growth  of  superstition, 
or,  if  you  like  to  put  it  in  other  language,  against  the 
dumb  demands  of  man's  infra-rational  nature.  The 
glory  of  the  Stoics  is  to  have  built  up  a  religion  of 
extraordinary  nobleness ;  the  glory  of  the  Epicureans 
is  to  have  upheld  an  ideal  of  sanity  and  humanity  stark 
upright  amid  a  reeling  world,  and,  like  the  old  Spartans, 
never  to  have  yielded  one  inch  of  ground  to  the 
common  foe. 

^  Usener,  Epcurea  (1887),  pp.  232  ff. ;  Diels,  Doxographi  Graeci 
i^^79)y  P-  306;  Arnim,  Stoicorum  Veterum  Fragmenta  (1903-5), 
Chrysippus  1014,  1019. 


Ill  THE  FAILURE  OF  NERVE  in 

The  great  thing  to  remember  is  that  the  mind  of 
man  cannot  be  enlightened  permanently  by  merely 
teaching  him  to  reject  some  particular  set  of  super- 
stitions. There  is  an  infinite  supply  of  other  super- 
stitions always  at  hand  ;  and  the  mind  that  desires 
such  things — that  is,  the  mind  that  has  not  trained 
itself  to  the  hard  discipHne  of  reasonableness  and 
honesty,  will,  as  soon  as  its  devils  are  cast  out,  proceed 
to  fill  itself  with  their  relations. 

Let  us  first  consider  the  result  of  the  mere  denial 
of  the  Olympian  religion.  The  essential  postulate  of 
that  religion  was  that  the  world  is  governed  by  a 
number  of  definite  personal  gods,  possessed  of  a  human 
sense  of  justice  and  fairness  and  capable  of  being  in- 
fluenced by  normal  human  motives.  In  general,  they 
helped  the  good  and  punished  the  bad,  though  doubtless 
they  tended  too  much  to  regard  as  good  those  who  paid 
them  proper  attention  and  as  bad  those  who  did  not. 

Speaking  broadly,  what  was  left  when  this  concep- 
tion proved  inadequate  ?  If  it  was  not  these  personal 
gods  who  made  things  happen,  what  was  it  ?  If  the 
Tower  of  Siloam  was  not  deliberately  thrown  down 
by  the  gods  so  as  to  kill  and  hurt  a  carefully  collected 
number  of  wicked  people,  while  letting  the  good 
escape,  what  was  the  explanation  of  its  falling  ?  The 
answer  is  obvious,  but  it  can  be  put  in  two  ways.  You 
can  either  say  :  '  It  was  just  chance  that  the  Tower 
fell  at  that  particular  moment  when  So-and-so  was 
under  it.'  Or  you  can  say,  with  rather  more  reflection 
but  not  any  more  common  sense  :   '  It  fell  because  of 


112  THE  FAILURE  OF  NERVE  m 

a  definite  chain  of  causes,  a  certain  degree  of  progressive 
decay  in  the  building,  a  certain  definite  pressure,  &c. 
It  was  bound  to  fall.' 

There  is  no  real  difference  in  these  statements,  at 
least  in  the  meaning  of  those  who  ordinarily  utter  them. 
Both  are  compatible  with  a  reasonable  and  scientific 
view  of  the  world.  But  in  the  Hellenistic  Age,  when 
Greek  thought  was  spreading  rapidly  and  superficially 
over  vast  semi-barbarous  populations  whose  minds  were 
not  ripe  for  it,  both  views  turned  back  instinctively 
into  a  theology  as  personal  as  that  of  the  Olympians. 
It  was  not,  of  course,  Zeus  or  Apollo  who  willed  this ; 
every  one  knew  so  much  :  it  happened  by  Chance. 
That  is.  Chance  or  Fortune  willed  it.  And  Tuche 
became  a  goddess  like  the  rest.  The  great  catastrophes, 
the  great  transformations  of  the  mediterranean  world 
which  marked  the  Hellenistic  period,  had  a  strong 
influence  here.  If  Alexander  and  his  generals  had 
practised  some  severely  orthodox  Macedonian  religion, 
it  would  have  been  easy  to  see  that  the  Gods  of  Mace- 
don  were  the  real  rulers  of  the  world.  But  they  most 
markedly  did  not.  They  accepted  hospitably  all  the 
religions  that  crossed  their  path.  Some  power  or  other 
was  disturbing  the  world,  that  was  clear.  It  was  not 
exactly  the  work  of  man,  because  sometimes  the 
good  were  exalted,  sometimes  the  bad  ;  sometimes  the 
Greek,  sometimes  the  barbarian.  It  was  just  Fortune. 
Happy  is  the  man  who  knows  how  to  placate  Fortune 
and  make  her  smile  upon  him  ! 

It  is  worth  remembering  that  the  best  seed-ground 
for  superstition  is  a  society  in  which  the  fortunes  of 


Ill  THE  FAILURE  OF  NERVE  115 

men  seem  to  bear  practically  no  relation  to  their  m.erits 
and  efforts.  A  stable  and  well-governed  society  does 
tend,  speaking  roughly,  to  ensure  that  the  Virtuous 
and  Industrious  Apprentice  shall  succeed  in  life,  while 
the  Wicked  and  Idle  Apprentice  fails.  And  in  such 
a  society  people  tend  to  lay  stress  on  the  reasonable 
or  visible  chains  of  causation.  But  in  a  country 
suffering  from  earthquakes  or  pestilences,  in  a  court 
governed  by  the  whim  of  a  despot,  in  a  district  which 
is  habitually  the  seat  of  a  war  between  alien  armies, 
the  ordinary  virtues  of  diligence,  honesty,  and  kindli- 
ness seem  to  be  of  little  avail.  The  only  way  to  escape 
destruction  is  to  win  the  favour  of  the  prevailing 
powers,  take  the  side  of  the  strongest  invader,  flatter 
the  despot,  placate  the  Fate  or  Fortune  or  angry 
god  that  is  sending  the  earthquake  or  the  pestilence. 
The  Hellenistic  period  pretty  certainly  falls  in  some 
degree  under  all  of  these  categories.  And  one  result  is 
the  sudden  and  enormous  spread  of  the  worship  of 
Fortune.  Of  course  there  was  always  a  protest. 
There  is  the  famous 

Nullum  numen  habes  si  sit  prudentia :  nos  te, 
Nos  facimus,  For  tuna,  deam, 

taken  by  Juvenal  from  the  Greek.  There  are  many 
unguarded  phrases  and  at  least  three  corrections  in 
Polybius.^  Most  interesting  of  all  perhaps  there  is  the 
first  oration  of  Plutarch  on  the  Fortune  of  Alexander.^ 

1  Juv.  X.  365  f. ;  Polyb.  ii.  38.  5  ;  x.  5.  8  ;  xviii.  II.  5. 

2  Cf.   also    his   Consolatio   ad  Apllonium.    The   earliest    text    is 
perhaps  the  interesting  fragment  of  Demetrius  of  Phalerum  (fr.  19, 

p.  p.  648  H 


114  THE  FAILURE  OF  NERVE  iii 

A  sentence  in  Pliny's  Natural  History,  ii.  22,  seems  to 
go  back  to  Hellenistic  sources. 

'  Throughout  the  whole  world,  at  every  place  and 
hour,  by  every  voice  Fortune  alone  is  invoked  and  her 
name  spoken  :  she  is  the  one  defendant,  the  one 
culprit,  the  one  thought  in  men's  minds,  the  one  object 
of  praise,  the  one  cause.  She  is  worshipped  with 
insults,  counted  as  fickle  and  often  as  blind,  wandering, 
inconsistent,  elusive,  changeful,  and  friend  of  the 
unworthy.  .  .  .  We  are  so  much  at  the  mercy  of  chance 
that  Chance  is  our  god.' 

The  word  used  is  first  Fortuna  and  then  Sors,  This 
shows  how  little  real  difference  there  is  between  the 

in  F.  H.  G.  ii.  368),  written  about  317  B.C.  It  is  quoted  with  admira- 
tion by  Polybius  xxix.  21,  with  reference  to  the  defeat  of  Perseus  of 
Macedon  by  the  Romans : 

'  One  must  often  remember  the  saying  of  Demetrius  of  Phalerum  .  .  . 
in  his  Treatise  on  Fortune  ..."  If  you  were  to  take  not  an  indefinite 
time,  nor  many  generations,  but  just  the  fifty  years  before  this,  you 
could  see  in  them  the  violence  of  Fortune.  Fifty  years  ago  do  you 
suppose  that  either  the  Macedonians  or  the  King  of  Macedon,  or  the 
Persians  or  the  King  of  Persia,  if  some  God  had  foretold  them  what 
was  to  come,  would  ever  have  beheved  that  by  the  present  time  the 
Persians,  who  were  then  masters  of  almost  all  the  inhabited  world, 
would  have  ceased  to  be  even  a  geographical  name,  while  the  Mace- 
donians, who  were  then  not  even  a  name,  would  be  rulers  of  all  ?  Yet 
this  Fortune,  who  bears  no  relation  to  our  method  of  life,  but  trans- 
forms everything  in  the  way  we  do  not  expect  and  displays  her  power 
by  surprises,  is  at  the  present  moment  showing  all  the  world  that, 
when  she  puts  the  Macedonians  into  the  rich  inheritance  of  the  Persian, 
she  has  only  lent  them  these  good  things  until  she  changes  her  mind 
about  them."  Which  has  now  happened  in  the  case  of  Perseus.  The 
words  of  Demetrius  were  a  prophecy  uttered,  as  it  were,  by  inspired 
lips.' 


Ill  THE  FAILURE  OF  NERVE  us 

two  apparently  contradictory  conceptions. — '  Chance 
would  have  it  so.'  '  It  was  fated  to  be.'  The  sting 
of  both  phrases — their  pleasant  bitterness  when  played 
with,  their  quality  of  poison  when  believed — lies  in 
their  denial  of  the  value  of  human  endeavour. 

Yet  on  the  whole,  as  one  might  expect,  the  believers 
in  Destiny  are  a  more  respectable  congregation  than 
the  worshippers  of  Chance.  It  requires  a  certain 
amount  of  thoughtfulness  to  rise  to  the  conception  that 
nothing  really  happens  without  a  cause.  It  is  the  begin- 
ning, perhaps,  of  science.  Ionic  philosophers  of  the  fifth 
century  had  laid  stress  on  the  'AvdyKr)  (j^ucrto?,^  what 
we  should  call  the  Chain  of  causes  in  Nature.  After  the 
rise  of  Stoicism  Fate  becomes  something  less  physical, 
more  related  to  conscious  purpose.  It  is  not  Ananke 
but  Heimarmene.  Heimarmene,  in  the  striking  simile 
of  Zeno,^  is  like  a  fine  thread  running  through  the  whole 
of  existence — the  world,  we  must  remember,  was  to 
the  Stoics  a  live  thing — like  that  invisible  thread  of  life 
which,  in  heredity,  passes  on  from  generation  to  genera- 
tion of  living  species  and  keeps  the  type  alive  ;  it  runs 
causing,  causing  for  ever,  both  the  infinitesimal  and 
the  infinite.  It  is  the  Adyo?  rov  KoorfJiov,^  the  Nov?  Ato9, 
the  Reason  of  the  World  or  the  mind  of  Zeus,  rather 
difficult  to  distinguish  from  the  Pronoia  or  Providence, 
which  is  the  work  of  God  and  indeed  the  very  essence 
of  God.  Cleanthes  in  one  of  his  finest  hymns  prays  to 
rj  TreTTpcofxivrj — the  Path  that  is  Ordained.* 

^  Eur.,  Tro.  886.    Literally  it  means  '  The  Compulsion  in  the  way 
Things  grow '.  ^  Zeno,  fr.  87,  Arnim. 

3  Chrysippus,  fr.  913,  Arnim.  ^  Cleanthes,  527,  Arnim. 

H  Z 


ii6  THE  FAILURE  OF  NERVE  iii 

That  is  a  noble  conception.  But  the  vulgar  of 
course  can  turn  Kismet  into  a  stupid  idol,  as  easily  as 
they  can  Fortune.  And  Epicurus  may  have  been  right 
when  he  exclaimed  that  he  would  sooner  be  a  slave 
to  the  old  gods  of  the  vulgar,  than  to  the  Destiny  of 
the  philosophers.^ 

So  much  for  the  result  in  superstitious  minds  of  the 
denial,  or  rather  the  removal,  of  the  Olympian  Gods. 
It  landed  men  in  the  worship  of  Fortune  or  of  Fate. 

Next,  let  us  consider  what  happened  when,  instead 
of  merely  rejecting  the  Gods  en  masse ^  people  tried 
carefully  to  collect  what  remained  of  religion  after 
the  Olympian  system  fell. 

Aristotle  himself  gives  us  a  fairly  clear  answer.  He 
held  that  the  origins  of  man's  knowledge  (Ivvoia)  of 
the  Divine  were  twofold,^  the  phenomena  of  the 
sky  and  the  phenomena  of  the  human  soul.  It  is 
very  much  what  Kant  found  two  thousand  years  later. 
The  spectacle  of  the  vast  and  ordered  movements  of 
the  heavenly  bodies  are  compared  by  him  in  a  famous 
fragment  with  the  marching  forth  of  Homer's  armies 
before  Troy.  Behind  such  various  order  and  strength 
there  must  surely  be  a  conscious  mind  capable 

Koo-fJLTJcraL  linrovf;  re  kol  avepa<;  do-TTtStwra?. 

To  order  steeds  of  war  and  mailed  men. 

It  is  only  a  step  from  this  to  regarding  the  sun,  moon, 
and  stars  as  themselves  divine,  and  it  is  a  step  which 

^  Epicurus,  Third  Letter,    Usener,  p.  6^,  12  =  Diog.  La.  x.  134. 
8  Aristotle,  f r.  1 2  ff , 


Ill  THE  FAILURE  OF  NERVE  117 

both  Plato  and  Aristotle,  following  Pythagoras  and 
followed  by  the  Stoics,  take  with  confidence.  Chrysip- 
pus  gives  practically  the  same  list  of  gods  :  '  the  Sun, 
Moon,  and  Stars  and  Law  :  and  men  who  have  turned 
into  Gods.'  ^  Both  the  wandering  stars  and  the  fixed 
stars  are  '  animate  beings,  divine  and  eternal ',  self- 
acting  subordinate  gods.  As  to  the  divinity  of  the  soul 
or  the  mind  of  man,  the  earlier  generations  are  shy 
about  it.  But  in  the  later  Stoics  it  is  itself  a  portion  of 
the  divine  life.  It  shows  this  ordinarily  by  its  power 
of  reason,  and  more  conspicuously  by  becoming  ii^Oeos, 
or  '  filled  with  God  ',  in  its  exalted  moments  of  pre- 
vision, ecstasy,  and  prophetic  dreams.  If  reason  itself 
is  divine,  there  is  something  else  in  the  soul  which  is 
even  higher  than  reason  or  at  least  more  surprisingly 
divine. 

Let  us  follow  the  history  of  both  these  remaining 
substitutes  for  the  Olympian  gods. 

First  for  the  Heavenly  bodies.  If  they  are  to  be 
made  divine,  we  can  hardly  stop  there.  The  Earth 
is  also  a  divine  being.  Old  tradition  has  always  said 
so,  and  Plato  has  repeated  it.  And  if  Earth  is  divine, 
so  surely  are  the  other  elements,  the  Stoicheia,  Water, 
Air,  and  above  all.  Fire.  For  the  Gods  themselves  are 
said  by  Plato  to  be  made  of  fire,  and  the  Stars  visibly 
are  so.  Though  perhaps  the  heavenly  Fire  is  really 
not  our  Fire  at  all,  but  a  Tre/xTrroz^  o-w/xa,  a  'Fifth 
Body',  seeing  that  it  seems  not  to  burn  nor  the  Stars 
to  be  consumed. 

This  is  persuasive  enough  and  philosophic  ;    but 

^  e.g.  Chrysippus,  fr.  1076,  Arnim. 


ii8  THE  FAILURE  OF  NERVE  iii 

whither  has  it  led  us?  Back  to  the  Olympians,  or  rather 
behind  the  Olympians ;  as  St.  Paul  puts  it  (Gal.  iv.  9), 
to  '  the  beggarly  elements  '.  The  old  Kore,  or  Earth 
Maiden  and  Mother,  seems  to  have  held  her  own 
unshaken  by  the  changes  of  time  all  over  the  Aegean 
area.  She  is  there  in  prehistoric  Crete  with  her  two 
lions  ;  with  the  same  lions  orientalized  in  Olympia 
and  Ephesus  ;  in  Sparta  with  her  great  marsh  birds  ; 
in  Boeotia  with  her  horse.  She  runs  riot  in  a  number 
of  the  Gnostic  systems  both  pre-Christian  and  post- 
Christian.  She  forms  a  divine  triad  with  the  Father 
and  the  Son  :  that  is  ancient  and  natural.  But  she 
also  becomes  the  Divine  Wisdom,  Sophia,  the  Divine 
Truth,  Aletheia,  the  Holy  Breath  or  Spirit,  the 
Pneuma.  Since  the  word  for  '  spirit  '  is  neuter  in 
Greek  and  masculine  in  Latin,  this  last  is  rather  a 
surprise.  It  is  explained  when  we  remember  that  in 
Hebrew  the  word  for  Spirit, '  Ruah,'  is  mostly  feminine. 
In  the  meantime  let  us  notice  one  curious  development 
in  the  life  of  this  goddess.  In  the  old  religion  of 
Greece  and  Western  Asia,  she  begins  as  a  Maiden, 
then  in  fullness  of  time  becomes  a  mother.  There  is 
evidence  also  for  a  third  stage,  the  widowhood  of 
withering  autumn.-^  To  the  classical  Greek  this 
motherhood  was  quite  as  it  should  be,  a  due  fulfilment 
of  normal  functions.  But  to  the  Gnostic  and  Neo- 
Platonist  it  connoted  a  '  fall ',  a  passage  from  the 
glory  of  Virginity  to  a  state  of  Sin.  The  Kore  becomes 
a  fallen  Virgin,  sometimes  a  temptress  or  even  a  female 
devil ;  sometimes  she  has  to  be  saved  by  her  Son  the 
1  Themis,  p.  180,  n.  i. 


II 


THE  FAILURE  OF  NERVE  119 


Redeemer.-^  As  far  as  I  have  observed,  she  loses  most 
of  her  earthly  agricultural  quality,  though  as  Selene  or 
even  Helen  she  keeps  up  her  affinity  with  the  Moon. 

Almost  all  the  writers  of  the  Hellenistic  Age  agree 
in  regarding  the  Sun,  Moon  and  Stars  as  gods.  The 
rationalists  Hecataeus  and  Euhemerus,  before  going 
on  to  their  deified  men,  always  start  with  the  heavenly 
bodies.  When  Plutarch  explains  in  his  beautiful  and 
kindly  way  that  all  religions  are  really  attempts  towards 
the  same  goal,  he  clinches  his  argument  by  observing 
that  we  all  see  the  same  Sun  and  Moon  though  we  call 
them  by  different  names  in  all  languages.'-^  But  the 
belief  does  not  seem  to  have  had  much  religious  in- 
tensity in  it,  until  it  was  reinforced  by  two  alien 
influences. 

First,  we  have  the  ancient  worship  of  the  Sun, 
implicit,  if  not  explicit,  in  a  great  part  of  the  oldest 
Greek  rituals,  and  then  idealized  by  Plato  in  the 
Refublic^  where  the  Sun  is  the  author  of  all  light  and 
life  in  the  material  world,  as  the  Idea  of  Good  is  in  the 
ideal  world.  This  worship  came  gradually  into  con- 
tact with  the  traditional  and  definite  Sun-worship  of 
Persia.  The  final  combination  took  place  curiously 
late.  It  was  the  Roman  conquests  of  Cilicia,  Cappa- 
docia,  Commagene,  and  Armenia  that  gave  the  decisive 

1  Bousset,  Hauptprohleme  der  Gnosis,  1907,  pp.  13,  21,  26,  81,  &c.  ; 
pp.  332  ff.  She  becomes  Helen  In  the  beautiful  myth  of  the  Simonian 
Gnostics — a  Helen  who  has  forgotten  her  name  and  race,  and  is  a  slave 
in  a  brothel  in  Tyre.  Simon  discovers  her,  gradually  brings  back  her 
memory  and  redeems  her.    Irenaeus,  i.  23.  2. 

2  De  hide  et  Osiride,  6j.  (He  distinguishes  them  from  the  real 
God,  hovi^ever,  just  as  S alius tius  would.) 


120  THE  FAILURE  OF  NERVE  m 

moment.-^  To  men  who  had  wearied  of  the  myths  of 
the  poets,  who  could  draw  no  more  inspiration  from 
their  Apollo  and  Hyperion,  but  still  had  the  habits 
and  the  craving  left  by  their  old  Gods,  a  fresh  breath 
of  reaHty  came  with  the  entrance  of  ''HXto?  a^i/cr^ros 
MiOpas,  *  Mithras,  the  Unconquered  Sun.'  But  long 
before  the  triumph  of  Mithraism  as  the  military  religion 
of  the  Roman  frontier,  Greek  literature  is  permeated 
with  a  kind  of  intense  language  about  the  Sun,  which 
seems  derived  from  Plato.^  In  later  times,  in  the 
fourth  century  a.d.  for  instance,  it  has  absorbed 
some  more  full-blooded  and  less  critical  element 
as  well. 

Secondly,  all  the  seven  planets.  These  had  a  curious 
history.  The  planets  were  of  course  divine  and  living 
bodies,  so  much  Plato  gave  us.  Then  come  arguments 
and  questions  scattered  through  the  Stoic  and  eclectic 
literature.  Is  it  the  planet  itself  that  is  divine,  or  is 
the  planet  under  the  guidance  of  a  divine  spirit  ?  The 
latter  seems  to  win  the  day.  Anthropomorphism  has 
stolen  back  upon  us  :  we  can  use  the  old  language  and 
speak  simply  of  the  planet  Mercury  as  "Epfxov  dcTTrjp, 
It  is  the  star  of  Hermes,  and  Hermes  is  the  spirit  who 
guides  it.^     Even  Plato  in  his  old  age  had  much  to 

1  Mithras  was  worshipped  by  the  Cilician  Pirates  conquered  by 
Pompey.    Plut.,  Fit.  Pomp.  24. 

^  €Kyovos  Tov  TvpoiTov  Ocov.  Plato  (Diels,  305);  Stoics,  ib.  547, 1.  8. 
Aristotle  (Diels,  450).  oo-as  8e  ett'ai  ra?  or^aipa?,  to(tovtovs  virdp- 
X€iv  Kttt  Tov<i  KLvovvTa^  6iov^.  Chrysippus  (Diels,  466)  ;  Posidonius,  ibid, 
(cf.  Plato,  Laws,  898  ff.).  See  Epicurus's  Second  Letter,  especially 
Usener,  pp.  36-47  =  Diog.  La.  x.  86-104.  On  the  food  required 
by  the  heavenly  bodies  cf.  Chrysippus,  fr.  658-61,  Arnim. 


Ill  THE  FAILURE  OF  NERVE  121 

say  about  the  souls  of  the  seven  planets.  Further, 
each  planet  has  its  sphere.  The  Earth  is  in  the 
centre,  then  comes  the  sphere  of  the  Moon,  then  that  of 
the  Sun,  and  so  on  through  a  range  of  seven  spheres.  If 
all  things  are  full  of  gods,  as  the  wise  ancients  have 
said,  what  about  those  parts  of  the  sphere  in  which  the 
shining  planet  for  the  moment  is  not?  Are  they  without 
god  ?  Obviously  not.  The  whole  sphere  is  filled  with 
innumerable  spirits  everywhere.  It  is  all  Hermes,  all 
Aphrodite.  (We  are  more  familiar  with  the  Latin 
names,  Mercury  and  Venus.)  But  one  part  only  is 
visible.  The  voice  of  one  school,  as  usual,  is  raised  in 
opposition.  One  veteran  had  seen  clearly  from  the 
beginning  whither  all  this  sort  of  thing  was  sure  to  lead. 
'  Epicurus  approves  none  of  these  things.'  ^  It  was  no 
good  his  having  destroyed  the  old  traditional  supersti- 
tion, if  people  by  deifying  the  stars  were  to  fill  the  sky 
with  seven  times  seven  as  many  objects  of  worship 
as  had  been  there  before.  He  allows  no  Schwdrmerei 
about  the  stars.  They  are  not  divine  animate  beings, 
or  guided  by  Gods.  Why  cannot  the  astrologers  leave 
God  in  peace  ?  When  their  orbits  are  irregular  it  is 
7iot  because  they  are  looking  for  food.  They  are  just 
conglomerations  of  ordinary  atoms  of  air  or  fire — it 
does  not  matter  which.  They  are  not  even  very 
large — only  about  as  large  as  they  look,  or  perhaps 
smaller,  since  most  fires  tend  to  look  bigger  at  a  dis- 
tance. They  are  not  at  all  certainly  everlasting.  It  is 
quite  likely  that  the  sun  comes  to  an  end  every  day, 

^  6  Se  'E7rt'Koi;po9  ovSev    rovroiv    iyKplvei,     Diels,   3^7  ^>    ^5*     ^^• 
432  a,  10. 


122  THE  FAILURE  OF  NERVE  iii 

and  a  irew  one  rises  in  the  morning.  All  kinds  of 
explanations  are  possible,  and  none  certain.  Movov  6 
fxvOo<;  arreo-TO).  In  any  case,  as  you  value  your  life  and 
your  reason,  do  not  begin  making  myths  about  them  ! 

On  other  lines  came  what  might  have  been  the 
effective  protest  of  real  Science,  when  Aristarchus  of 
Samos  (250  B.C.)  argued  that  the  earth  was  not  really 
the  centre  of  the  universe,  but  revolved  round  the 
Sun.  But  his  fellow  astronomers  were  against  him  ; 
Cleanthes  the  Stoic  denounced  him  for  '  disturbing 
the  Hearth  of  the  Universe  ',  and  his  heresy  soon 
died  away. 

The  planets  in  their  seven  spheres  surrounding  the 
earth  continued  to  be  objects  of  adoration.  They  had 
their  special  gods  or  guiding  spirits  assigned  them. 
Their  ordered  movements  through  space,  it  was  held, 
produce  a  vast  and  eternal  harmony.  It  is  beautiful 
beyond  all  earthly  music,  this  Music  of  the  Spheres, 
beyond  all  human  dreams  of  what  music  might  be. 
The  only  pity  is  that — except  for  a  few  individuals  in 
trances — nobody  has  ever  heard  it.  Circumstances 
seem  always  to  be  unfavourable.  It  may  be  that  we 
are  too  far  off,  though,  considering  the  vastness  of  the 
orchestra,  this  seems  improbable.  More  likely  we  are 
merely  deaf  to  it  because  it  never  stops  and  we  have 
been  in  the  middle  of  it  since  we  first  drew  breath.^ 

The  planets  also  become  Elements  in  the  Kosmos, 
Stoicheia.  It  is  significant  that  in  Hellenistic  theology 
the  word  Stoicheion,  Element,  gets  to  mean  a  Daemon 

^  Pythagoras  in  Diels,  p.  555,  20  ;  the  best  criticism  is  in  Pseudo- 
Aristotle,  De  Caeloj  chap.  9  (p.  290b). 


Ill  THE  FAILURE  OF  NERVE  125 

— as  Megethos,  Greatness,  means  an  Angel.^  But 
behold  a  mystery  !  The  word  Stoicheia,  '  elementa  ', 
had  long  been  used  for  the  Greek  ABC,  and  in 
particular  for  the  seven  vowels  a  e  -q  i  o  v  co.  That  is 
no  chance,  no  mere  coincidence.  The  vowels  are  the 
mystic  signs  of  the  Planets ;  they  have  control  over  the 
planets.  Hence  strange  prayers  and  magic  formulae 
innumerable. 

Even  the  way  of  reckoning  time  changed  under  the 
influence  of  the  Planets.  Instead  of  the  old  division  of 
the  month  into  three  periods  of  nine  days,  w^e  find 
gradually  establishing  itself  the  week  of  seven  days  with 
each  day  named  after  its  planet,  Sun,  Moon,  Ares, 
Hermes,  Zeus,  Aphrodite,  Kronos.  The  history  of  the 
Planet  week  is  given  by  Dio  Cassius,  xxxvii.  18,  in  his 
account  of  the  Jewish  campaign  of  Pompeius.  But 
it  was  not  the  Jewish  week.  The  Jews  scorned  such 
idolatrous  and  polytheistic  proceedings.  It  was  the 
old  week  of  Babylon,  the  original  home  of  astronomy 
and  planet-worship. 

For  here  again  a  great  foreign  religion  came  like 
water  in  the  desert  to  minds  reluctantly  and  super- 
ficially enlightened,  but  secretly  longing  for  the  old 
terrors  and  raptures  from  which  they  had  been  set  free. 
Even  in  the  old  days  Aeschylus  had  called  the  planets 
'bright  potentates,  shining  in  the  fire  of  heaven',  and 
Euripides  had  spoken  of  the  '  shaft  hurled  from  a  star  '.^ 
But  we  are  told  that  the  first  teaching  of  astrology  in 

^  See  Diels,  Elementum,  1899,  p.  17.    These  magic  letters  are  still 
used  in  the  Roman  ritual  for  the  consecration  of  churches. 
2  Aesch.,  Ag.  6  ;  Eur.,  Hip.  530. 


124  THE  FAILURE  OF  NERVE  iii 

Hellenic  lands  was  in  the  time  of  Alexander,  when 
Berossos  the  Chaldaean  set  up  a  school  in  Cos.  And 
the  philosopher  Theophrastus  is  reported  by  Proclus  ^ 
as  saying  that  '  the  most  extraordinary  thing  of  his  age 
was  the  lore  of  the  Chaldaeans,  who  foretold  not  only 
events  of  public  interest  but  even  the  lives  and  deaths 
of  individuals  '.  One  wonders  slightly  whether  Theo- 
phrastus spoke  with  as  much  implicit  faith  as  Proclus 
suggests.  But  the  chief  account  is  given  by  Diodorus, 
ii.  50  (perhaps  from  Hecataeus). 

'  Other  nations  despise  the  philosophy  of  Greece. 
It  is  so  recent  and  so  constantly  changing.  They  have 
traditions  which  come  from  vast  antiquity  and  never 
change.  Notably  the  Chaldaeans  have  collected  obser- 
vations of  the  Stars  through  long  ages,  and  teach  how 
every  event  in  the  heavens  has  its  meaning,  as  part  of 
the  eternal  scheme  of  divine  forethought.  Especially 
the  seven  Wanderers,  or  Planets,  are  called  by  them 
Hermeneis,  Interpreters  :  and  among  them  the  Inter- 
preter in  chief  is  Saturn.  Their  work  is  to  interpret 
beforehand  ttji'  tcop  Oecov  evvoiav^  the  thought  that  is  in 
the  mind  of  the  Gods.  By  their  risings  and  settings, 
and  by  the  colours  they  assume,  the  Chaldaeans  pre- 
dict great  winds  and  storms  and  waves  of  excessive 
heat,  comets,  and  earthquakes,  and  in  general  all 
changes  fraught  with  weal  or  woe  not  only  to  nations 
and  regions  of  the  world,  but  to  kings  and  to  ordinary 
men  and  women.  Beneath  the  Seven  are  thirty  Gods 
of  Counsel,  half  below  and  half  above  the  Earth ; 
every  ten  days  a  messenger  or  Angel  star  passes  from 
above  below  and  another  from  below  above.  Above 
these  gods  are  twelve  Masters,  who  are  the  twelve 
signs  of  the  Zodiac  ;  and  the  planets  pass  through  all 
^  Proclus,  In  Timaeum,  285  F. 


Ill  THE  FAILURE  OF  NERVE  125 

the  Houses  of  these  twelve  in  turn.  The  Chaldaeans 
have  made  prophecies  for  various  kings,  such  as  Alex- 
ander who  conquered  Darius,  and  Antigonus  and 
Seleucus  Nikator,  and  have  always  been  right.  And 
private  persons  who  have  consulted  them  consider 
their  wisdom  as  marvellous  and  above  human  power.' 

Astrology  fell  upon  the  Hellenistic  mind  as  a  new 
disease  falls  upon  some  remote  island  people.  Every 
one  was  ready  to  receive  the  germ.  The  Epicureans, 
of  course,  held  out,  and  so  did  Panaetius,  the  coolest 
head  among  the  Stoics.  But  the  Stoics  as  a  whole  gave 
way.  They  formed  with  good  reason  the  leading 
school  of  philosophy,  and  it  would  have  been  a  service 
to  mankind  if  they  had  resisted.  But  they  were 
already  committed  to  a  belief  in  the  deity  of  the 
stars  and  to  the  doctrine  of  Heimarmene,  or  Destiny. 
They  believed  in  the  pervading  Pronoia,^  or  Fore- 
thought, of  the  divine  mind,  and  in  the  tvfjLTrdOeLa  to)v 
okoiv — the  Sympathy  of  all  Creation,^  so  that  what- 
ever happens  to  any  one  part,  however  remote  or 
insignificant,  affects  all  the  rest.  It  seemed  only  a 
natural  and  beautiful  illustration  of  this  Sympathy 
that  the  movements  of  the  Stars  should  be  bound  up 
with  the  sufferings  of  man.  They  also  appealed  to  the 
general  belief  in  prophecy  and  divination.^    If  a  prophet 

^  Chrysippus,  1187-95.    Esse  divinationem  si  di  sint  et  providentia. 

2  Cicero, De  Nat.  De.  iii.  11,  28;  c^Y'^ciAXj De  Divinatione,  ii.  14,  34; 
60,  124  ;  69,  142.  *  Qua  ex  cognatione  naturae  et  quasi  concentu  atque 
consensu,  quam  crvfjcTrdOeLav  Graeci  appellant,  convenire  potest  aut 
fissum  iecoris  cum  lucello  meo  aut  meus  quaesticulus  cum  caelo,  terra 
rerumque  natura  ? '  asks  the  sceptic  in  the  second  of  these  passages. 

^  Chrysippus,  939-44.    Vaticinatio  probat  fati  necessitatem. 


126  THE  FAILURE  OF  NERVE  in 

can  foretell  that  such  and  such  an  event  will  happen, 
then  it  is  obviously  fated  to  happen.  Foreknowledge 
implies  Predestination.  This  belief  in  prophecy  was, 
in  reality,  a  sort  of  appeal  to  fact  and  to  common  sense. 
People  could  produce  then,  as  they  can  now,  a  large 
number  of  striking  cases  of  second  sight,  presentiment, 
clairvoyance,  actual  prophecy  and  the  like  ;  ^  and  it 
was  more  difficult  then  to  test  them. 

The  argument  involved  Stoicism  with  some  question- 
able allies.  Epicureans  and  sceptics  of  the  Academy 
might  well  mock  at  the  sight  of  a  great  man  like  Chry- 
sippus  or  Posidonius  resting  an  important  part  of  his 
religion  on  the  undetected  frauds  of  a  shady  Levantine 
'  medium  '.  Still  the  Stoics  could  not  but  welcome 
the  arrival  of  a  system  of  prophecy  and  predestination 
which,  however  the  incredulous  might  rail  at  it,  possessed 
at  least  great  antiquity  and  great  stores  of  learning, 
which  was  respectable,  recondite,  and  in  a  way  subHme. 

In  all  the  religious  systems  of  later  antiquity,  if 
I  mistake  not,  the  Seven  Planets  play  some  lordly  or 
terrifying  part.  The  great  Mithras  Liturgy,  unearthed 
by  Dieterich  from  a  magical  papyrus  in  Paris,^  repeatedly 
confronts  the  worshipper  with  the  seven  vowels  as 
names  of  '  the  Seven  Deathless  Kosmokratores ',  or 
Lords  of  the  Universe,  and  seems,  under  their  influence, 
to  go  off  into  its  '  Seven  Maidens  with  heads  of  ser- 
pents, in  white  raiment  ',  and  its  divers  other  Sevens. 

^  Chrysippus,  1 2 14,  1200-6. 

2  Eine  Mithrasliturgie,  1903.  The  MS.  is  574  Supplement  Grec  de  la 
Bibl.  Nationale.  The  formulae  of  various  religions  were  used  as  instru- 
ments of  magic,  as  our  own  witches  used  the  Lord's  Prayer  backwards, 


Ill  THE  FAILURE  OF  NERVE  127 

The  various  Hermetic  and  Mithraic  communities,  the 
Naassenes  described  by  Hippolytus/  and  other  Gnostic 
bodies,  authors  like  Macrobius  and  even  Cicero  in  his 
Somnium  Scipioms,  are  full  of  the  influence  of  the  seven 
planets  and  of  the  longing  to  escape  beyond  them.  For 
by  some  simple  psychological  law  the  stars  which  have 
inexorably  pronounced  our  fate,  and  decreed,  or  at 
least  registered  the  decree,  that  in  spite  of  all  striving 
we  must  needs  tread  their  prescribed  path  ;  still  more 
perhaps,  the  Stars  who  know  in  the  midst  of  our 
laughter  how  that  laughter  will  end,  become  inevitably 
powers  of  evil  rather  than  good,  beings  malignant  as  , 
well  as  pitiless,  making  life  a  vain  thing.  And  Saturn,  j 
the  chief  of  them,  becomes  the  most  malignant.  To  \ 
some  of  the  Gnostics  he  becomes  Jaldabaoth,  the  Lion- 
headed  God,  the  evil  Jehovah.^  The  religion  of  later 
antiquity  is  overpoweringly  absorbed  in  plans  of  escape 
from  the  prison  of  the  seven  planets. 

In  author  after  author,  in  one  community  after 
another,  the  subject  recurs.  And  on  the  whole  there 
is  the  same  answer.  Here  on  the  earth  we  are  the 
sport  of  Fate  ;  nay,  on  the  earth  itself  we  are  worse 
off  still.  We  are  beneath  the  Moon,  and  beneath  the 
Moon  there  is  not  only  Fate  but  something  more 
unworthy  and  equally  malignant.  Chance — to  say 
nothing  of  damp  and  the  ills  of  earth  and  bad  daemons. 
Above  the  Moon  there  is  no  chance,  only  Necessity  ; 
there  is  the  will  of  the  other  six  Kosmokratores,  Rulers 

^  Refiitatio  Omnium  Haeresium,  v.  7. 

^  Bousset,  p.  351.  The  hostility  of  Zoroastrianism  to  the  old 
Babylonian  planet  gods  was  doubtless  at  work  also.      lb.  pp.  37-46. 


128  THE  FAILURE  OF  NERVE  iii 

of  the  Universe.  But  above  them  all  there  is  an  Eighth 
region — they  call  it  simply  the  Ogdoas — the  home  of 
the  ultimate  God,^  whatever  He  is  named,  v^hose  being 
was  before  the  Kosmos.  In  this  Sphere  is  true  Being 
and  Freedom.  And  more  than  freedom,  there  is  the 
ultimate  Union  with  God.  For  that  spark  of  divine 
life  which  is  man's  soul  is  not  merely,  as  some  have 
said,  an  aTroppoia  rcov  dcTTpcov,  an  effluence  of  the  stars : 
it  comes  direct  from  the  first  and  ultimate  God,  the 
Alpha  and  Omega,  who  is  beyond  the  Planets.  Though 
the  Kosmokratores  cast  us  to  and  fro  like  their  slaves 
or  dead  chattels,  in  soul  at  least  we  are  of  equal  birth 
with  them.  The  Mithraic  votary,  when  their  wrathful 
and  tremendous  faces  break  in  upon  his  vision,  answers 
them  unterrified :  iycj  elfjn  (jvixirXavo^  vixiv  acmjp, 
'  I  am  your  fellow  Wanderer,  your  fellow  Star.'  The 
Orphic  carried  to  the  grave  on  his  golden  scroll  the 
same  boast  :  First,  '  I  am  the  child  of  Earth  and  of 
the  starry  Heaven  ;  '  then  later,  '  I  too  am  become 
God.'  ^  The  Gnostic  writings  consist  largely  of  charms 
to  be  uttered  by  the  Soul  to  each  of  the  Planets  in 
turn,  as  it  pursues  its  perilous  path  past  all  of  them 
to  its  ultimate  home. 

That  journey  awaits  us  after  death  ;  but  in  the 
meantime?  In  the  meantime  there  are  initiations, 
sacraments,  mystic  ways  of  communion  with  God. 
To  see  God  face  to  face  is,  to  the  ordinary  unprepared 
man,  sheer  death.  But  to  see  Him  after  due  purifica- 
tion, to  be  led  to  Him  along  the  true  Way  by  an 

1  Or,  in  some  Gnostic  systems,  of  the  Mother. 

2  Harrison,  Prolegomena,  Appendix  on  the  Orphic  tablets. 


Ill  THE  FAILURE  OF  NERVE  129 

initiating  Priest,  is  the  ultimate  blessing  of  human  life. 
It  is  to  die  and  be  born  again.  There  were  regular 
official  initiations.  We  have  one  in  the  Mithras- 
Liturgy,  more  than  one  in  the  Corpus  Hermeticum. 
Apuleius  ^  tells  us  at  some  length,  though  in  guarded 
language,  how  he  was  initiated  to  Isis  and  became  '  her 
image  '.  After  much  fasting,  clad  in  holy  garments 
and  led  by  the  High  Priest,  he  crossed  the  threshold 
of  Death  and  passed  through  all  the  Elements.  The 
Sun  shone  upon  him  at  midnight,  and  he  saw  the  Gods 
of  Heaven  and  of  Hades.  In  the  morning  he  was  clad 
in  the  Robe  of  Heaven,  set  up  on  a  pedestal  in  front  of 
the  Goddess  and  worshipped  by  the  congregation  as 
a  God.  He  had  been  made  one  with  Osiris  or  Horus 
or  whatever  name  it  pleased  that  Sun-God  to  be 
called.     Apuleius  does  not  reveal  it. 

There  were  also,  of  course,  the  irregular  personal 
initiations  and  visions  of  god  vouchsafed  to  persons 
of  special  prophetic  powers.  St.  Paul,  we  may  remem- 
ber, knew  personally  a  man  who  had  actually  been 
snatched  up  into  the  Third  Heaven,  and  another  who 
was  similarly  rapt  into  Paradise,  where  he  heard 
unspeakable  words  ;  ^  whether  in  the  body  or  not,  the 
apostle  leaves  undecided.  He  himself  on  the  road  to 
Damascus  had  seen  the  Christ  in  glory,  not  after  the 
flesh.     The  philosopher  Plotinus,  so  his  disciple  tells 

^  Ap.  Metamorphoses,  xi. 

2  2  Cor.  xii.  2  and  3  (he  may  be  referring  in  veiled  language  to 
himself) ;  Gal.  i.  12  ff. ;  Acts  ix.  1-22.  On  the  difference  of  tone  and 
fidelity  between  the  Epistles  and  the  Acts  see  the  interesting  remarks 
of  Prof.  P.  Gardner,  The  Religious  Experience  of  St.  Paid^  pp.  5  ff. 

p.p.  648  I 


150  THE  FAILURE  OF  NERVE  iii 

us,  was  united  with  God  in  trance  four  times  in  five 
years.^ 

We  seem  to  have  travelled  far  from  the  simplicity 
of  early  Greek  religion.  Yet  most  of  the  movement 
has  been,  and  perhaps  not  quite  unconsciously,  a 
reaction  under  Oriental  and  barbarous  influences 
towards  the  most  primitive  pre-Hellenic  cults.  The 
union  of  man  with  God  came  regularly  through 
Ekstasis — the  soul  must  get  clear  of  its  body — and 
Enthousiasmos — the  God  must  enter  and  dwell  inside 
the  worshipper.  But  the  means  to  this  union,  while 
sometimes  allegorized  and  spiritualized  to  the  last 
degree,  are  sometimes  of  the  most  primitive  sort.  The 
vagaries  of  religious  emotion  are  apt  to  reach  very  low 
as  well  as  very  high  in  the  scale  of  human  nature. 
Certainly  the  primitive  Thracian  savages,  who  drank 
themselves  mad  with  the  hot  blood  of  their  God-beast, 
would  have  been   quite  at  home  in   some  of  these 

1  Porphyry,  Vita  Plotini,  23.  *  We  have  explained  that  he  v/as 
good  and  gentle,  mild  and  merciful ;  we  who  lived  with  him  could 
feel  it.  We  have  said  that  he  was  vigilant  and  pure  of  soul,  and 
always  striving  towards  the  Divine,  which  with  all  his  soul  he  loved.  .  .  . 
And  thus  it  happened  to  this  extraordinary  man,  constantly  lifting 
himself  up  towards  the  first  and  transcendent  God  by  thought  and  the 
ways  explained  by  Plato  in  the  Symposium,  that  there  actually  came 
a  vision  of  that  God  who  is  without  shape  or  form,  established  above 
the  understanding  and  all  the  intelligible  world.  To  whom  I,  Porphyry, 
being  now  in  my  sixty-eighth  year,  profess  that  I  once  drew  near 
and  was  made  one  with  him.  At  any  rate  he  appeared  to  Plotinus 
"  a  goal  close  at  hand  ".  For  his  whole  end  and  goal  was  to  be  made 
One  and  draw  near  to  the  supreme  God.  And  he  attained  that  goal 
four  times,  I  think,  while  I  was  living  with  him — not  potentially  but 
in  actuality,  though  an  actuaHty  which  surpasses  speech.' 


Ill  THE  FAILURE  OF  NERVE  151 

rituals,  though  in  others  they  would  have  been  put 
off  with  some  substitute  for  the  actual  blood.     The 
primitive  priestesses  who  waited  in  a  bridal  chamber 
for  the  Divine  Bridegroom,  even  the  Cretan  Kouretes 
with  their  Zeus  Koures^  and  those  strange  hierophants 
of  the  '  Men's  House  '  whose  enigmatic  message  is 
written  on  the  rocks  of  Thera,  would  have  found  rites 
very  like  their  own  reblossoming  on  earth  after  the  fall 
of  Hellenism.     '  Prepare  thyself  as  a  bride  to  receive 
her  bridegroom,'  says  Markos  the  Gnostic,^  '  that  thou 
mayst   be  what  I  am  and  I  what  thou  art.'     '  I  in 
thee,  and  thou  in  me ! '   is  the  ecstatic  cry  of  one  of 
the  Hermes  liturgies.     Before  that  the  prayer  has  been 
'  Enter  into  me  as  a  babe  into  the  womb  of  a  woman  '.^ 
In  almost  all  the  Uturgies  that  I  have  read  need  is  felt 
for  a  mediator  between  the  seeker  after  God  and  his 
goal.     Mithras   himself  was   a   Mesites,    a   Mediator, 
between    Ormuzd    and    Ahriman,    but    the    ordinary 
mediator  is  more  like  an  interpreter  or  an  adept  with 
inner  knowledge  which  he  reveals  to  the  outsider.     The 
circumstances  out  of  which  these  systems  grew  have  left 
their  mark  on  the  new  gods  themselves.     As  usual,  the 
social  structure  of  the  worshippers  is  reflected  in  their 
objects  of  worship.     When  the  Chaldaeans  came  to 
Cos,  when  the  Thracians  in  the  Piraeus  set  up  their 
national  worship  of  Bendis,  when  the  Egyptians  in  the 

1  C.  /.  G.,  vol.  xii,  fasc.  3  ;  and  Bethe  in  Rhein.  Mus.,  N.  F.,  xlii, 
438-475.  ^  Irenaeus,  i.  13.  3. 

3  Bousset,  chap,  vii ;  Reitzenstein,  Mysterienreligionen,  pp.  20  ff., 
with  excursus ;  Poimandres,  226  ff .  ;  Dieterich,  Mithrasliturgie^ 
pp.  121  ff. 

I  2 


152  THE  FAILURE  OF  NERVE  iii 

same  port  founded  their  society  for  the  Egyptian  ritual 
of  Isis,  when  the  Jews  at  Assuan  in  the  fifth  century 
B.C.  established  their  own  temple,  in  each  case  there 
would  come  proselytes  to  whom  the  truth  must  be 
explained  and  interpreted,  sometimes  perhaps  softened. 
And  in  each  case  there  is  behind  the  particular  priest  or 
initiator  there  present  some  greater  authority  in  the 
land  he  comes  from.  Behind  any  explanation  that 
can  be  made  in  the  Piraeus,  there  is  a  deeper  and  higher 
explanation  known  only  to  the  great  master  in  Jeru- 
salem, in  Egypt,  in  Babylon,  or  perhaps  in  some  un- 
explored and  ever-receding  region  of  the  east.  This 
series  of  revelations,  one  behind  the  other,  is  a  charac- 
teristic of  all  these  mixed  Graeco-Oriental  religions. 

Most  of  the  Hermetic  treatises  are  put  in  the  form  of 
initiations  or  lessons  revealed  by  a  '  father  '  to  a  '  son  ', 
by  Ptah  to  Hermes,  by  Hermes  to  Thoth  or  Asclepios, 
and  by  one  of  them  to  us.  It  was  an  ancient  formula, 
a  natural  vehicle  for  traditional  wisdom  in  Egypt, 
where  the  young  priest  became  regularly  the  '  son  '  of 
the  old  priest.  It  is  a  form  that  we  find  in  Greece 
itself  as  early  as  Euripides,  whose  Melanippe  says  of 
her  cosmological  doctrines, 

'  It  is  not  my  word  but  my  Mother's  word.'  ^ 

It  was  doubtless  the  language  of  the  old  Medicine-Man 
to  his  disciple.  In  one  fine  Hturgy  Thoth  wrestles 
with  Hermes  in  agony  of  spirit,  till  Hermes  is  forced 
to  reveal  to  him  the  path  to  union  with  God  which 
he  himself  has  trodden  before.  At  the  end  of  the 
1  Eur.  fr.  484 


Ill  THE  FAILURE  OF  NERVE  155 

Mithras  liturgy  the  devotee  who  has  passed  through 
the  mystic  ordeals  and  seen  his  god  face  to  face,  is  told  : 
'  After  this  you  can  show  the  way  to  others.' 

But  this  leads  us  to  the  second  great  division  of  our 
subject.  We  turn  from  the  phenomena  of  the  sky  to 
those  of  the  soul. 

If  what  I  have  written  elsewhere  is  right,  one  of  the 
greatest  works  of  the  Hellenic  spirit,  and  especially  of 
fifth-century  Athens,  was  to  insist  on  what  seems  to 
us  such  a  commonplace  truism,  the  difference  between 
Man  and  God.  Sophrosyne  in  religion  was  the  mes- 
sage of  the  classical  age.  But  the  ages  before  and  after 
had  no  behef  in  such  a  lesson.  The  old  Medicine-Man 
was  perhaps  himself  the  first  Theos.  At  any  rate  the 
primaeval  kings  and  queens  were  treated  as  divine.^  Just 
for  a  few  great  generations  it  would  seem  humanity  rose 
to  a  sufficient  height  of  self-criticism  and  self-restraint 
to  reject  these  dreams  of  self-abasement  or  megalo- 
mania. But  the  effort  was  too  great  for  the  average 
world  ;  and  in  a  later  age  nearly  all  the  kings  and  rulers 
— all  people  in  fact  who  can  command  an  adequate 
number  of  flatterers — become  divine  beings  again. 
Let  us  consider  how  it  came  about. 

First  there  was  the  explicit  recognition  by  the 
soberest  philosophers  of  the  divine  element  in  man's 
soul."^    Aristotle  himself  built  an  altar  to  Plato.     He  did 

1  R.  G.  E.^,  pp.  155-60.  I  do  not  touch  on  the  political  side  of  this 
apotheosis  of  Hellenistic  kings ;  it  is  well  brought  out  in  Ferguson's 
Hellenistic  Athens,  e.g.  p.  lo8  f.,  also  p.  II  f.  and  note. 

2  Cf.  il/vxn  olK-qTrjpiov  8aLfjLovo<s,  Democr.  171,  Diels,  and  Alcmaeon 
is  said  by  Cicero  to  have  attributed  divinity  to  the  Stars  and  the  Soul. 


154  THE  FAILURE  OF  NERVE  m 

nothing  superstitious ;  he  did  not  call  Plato  a  god,  but 
we  can  see  from  his  beautiful  elegy  to  Eudemus,  that 
he  naturally  and  easily  used  language  of  worship  which 
would  seem  a  little  strange  to  us.  It  is  the  same 
emotion — a  noble  and  just  emotion  on  the  whole — 
which  led  the  philosophic  schools  to  treat  their  founders 
as  'heroes',  and  which  has  peopled  most  of  Europe  and 
Asia  with  the  memories  and  the  worship  of  saints.  But 
we  should  remember  that  only  a  rare  mind  will  make  its 
divine  man  of  such  material  as  Plato.  The  common  way 
to  dazzle  men's  eyes  is  a  more  brutal  and  obvious  one. 
To  people  who  were  at  all  accustomed  to  the 
conception  of  a  God-Man  it  was  difficult  not  to  feel 
that  the  conception  was  realized  in  Alexander.  His 
tremendous  power,  his  brilliant  personality,  his  achieve- 
ments beggaring  the  fables  of  the  poets,  put  people 
in  the  right  mind  for  worship.  Then  came  the  fact 
that  the  kings  whom  he  conquered  were,  as  a  matter 
of  fact,  mostly  regarded  by  their  subjects  as  divine 
beings.^  It  was  easy,  it  was  almost  inevitable,  for 
those  who  worshipped  the  '  God  '  ^  Darius  to  feel  that 
it  was  no  man  but  a  greater  god  who  had  overthrown 
Darius.  The  incense  which  had  been  burned  before 
those  conquered  gods  was  naturally  offered  to  their 
conqueror.     He  did  not  refuse  it.     It  was  not  good 

Melissus  and  Zeno  dcLas  oUrat  ra?  i/^vxa?.  The  phrase  rive?  Tr]v  if/vxrjv 
Svva/jiLv  dirb  tCjv  aa-rpoiv  piovcrav  Dials  65 1  must  refer  to  some 
Gnostic  sect. 

^  See  for  instance  Frazer,  Golden  Bough^,  part  I,  i.  417-19. 

2  Aesch.  Pers.  157,  644  (Ocos),  642  (SaL/xoiv).  Mr.  Bevan  however 
suspects  that  Aeschylus  misunderstood  his  Persian  sources :  see  his 
article  on  '  Deification '  in  Hastings'  Dictionary  of  Religion. 


Ill  THE  FAILURE  OF  NERVE  155 

policy  to  do  so,  and  self-depreciation  is  not  apt  to  be 
one  of  the  weaknesses  of  the  born  ruler.^  But  besides 
all  this,  if  you  are  to  judge  a  God  by  his  fruits,  what 
God  could  produce  better  credentials  ?  Men  had  often 
seen  Zeus  defied  with  impunity  ;  they  had  seen  faithful 
servants  of  Apollo  come  to  bad  ends.  But  those  who 
defied  Alexander,  however  great  they  might  be,  always 
rued  their  defiance,  and  those  who  were  faithful  to 
him  always  received  their  reward.  With  his  successors 
the  worship  became  more  official.  Seleucus,  Ptole- 
maeus,  Antigonus,  Demetrius,  all  in  different  degrees 
and  different  styles  are  deified  by  the  acclamations 
of  adoring  subjects.  Ptolemy  Philadelphus  seems  to 
have  been  the  first  to  claim  definite  divine  honours 
during  his  own  life.  On  the  death  of  his  wife  in  271 
he  proclaimed  her  deity  and  his  own  as  well  in  the 
worship  of  the  Theoi  Adelphoi,  the  '  Gods  Brethren  '. 
Of  course  there  was  flattery  in  all  this,  ordinary  self- 
interested  lying  flattery,  and  its  inevitable  accompani- 
ment, megalomania.  Any  reading  of  the  personal 
history  of  the  Ptolemies,  the  Seleucidae  or  the  Caesars 
shows  it.     But  that  is  not  the  whole  explanation. 

One  of  the  characteristics  of  the  period  of  the 
Diadochi  is  the  accumulation  of  capital  and  military 
force  in  the  hands  of  individuals.     The  Ptolemies  and 

1  Cf.  Aristotle  on  the  Meya\6\f/vxo^i  Eth.  Nic.  1123  b.  15.  et  8c 
hr)  ixeyaXoiV  eavrov  d^tol  a^io?  wv,  Kal  fxaXLU-Ta  rwv  /xeyi'o-Twv,  Trepi  eV 
fxaXiCTTa  av  etrj  .  .  .  /xeytcrTov  8e  tovt  olv  Ourjjx^v  o  Tot's  Oeoi'S  diroveixofxcv. 
But  these  kings  clearly  transgressed  the  mean.  For  the  satirical  com- 
ments of  various  public  men  in  Athens,  see  Ed.  Meyer,  Kleine  Schriften, 
301  ff.,  330. 


156  THE  FAILURE  OF  NERVE  iii 

Seleucidae  had  at  any  moment  at  their  disposal  powers 
very  much  greater  than  any  Pericles  or  Nicias  or 
Lysander.^  The  folk  of  the  small  cities  of  the  Aegean 
hinterlands  must  have  felt  towards  these  great  strangers 
almost  as  poor  Indian  peasants  in  time  of  flood  and 
famine  feel  towards  an  English  official.  There  were 
men  now  on  earth  who  could  do  the  things  that  had 
hitherto  been  beyond  the  power  of  man.  Were  several 
cities  thrown  down  by  earthquake ;  here  was  one 
who  by  his  nod  could  build  them  again.  Famines  had 
always  occurred  and  been  mostly  incurable.  Here  was 
one  who  could  without  effort  allay  a  famine.  Provinces 
were  harried  and  wasted  by  habitual  wars  :  the  even- 
tual conqueror  had  destroyed  whole  provinces  in 
making  the  wars ;  now,  as  he  had  destroyed,  he  could 
also  save.  '  What  do  you  mean  by  a  god,'  the  simple 
man  might  say,  '  if  these  men  are  not  gods  ?  The  only 
difference  is  that  these  gods  are  visible,  and  the  old  gods 
no  man  has  seen.' 

The  titles  assumed  by  all  the  divine  kings  tell  the 
story  clearly.  Antiochus  Epiphanes — '  the  god  made 
manifest '  ;  Ptolemaios  Euergetes,  Ptolemaios  Soter. 
Occasionally  we  have  a  Keraunos  or  a  Nikator,  a 
'  Thunderbolt '  or  a  '  God  of  Mana  ',  but  mostly  it  is 
Soter,  Euergetes  and  Epiphanes,  the  Saviour,  the 
Benefactor,  the  God  made  manifest,  in  constant  alter- 
nation. In  the  honorific  inscriptions  and  in  the 
writings  of  the  learned,  philanthropy  {(fyikavdpcoTria)  is 
by  far  the  most  prominent  characteristic  of  the  God 
upon  earth.  Was  it  that  people  really  felt  that  to 
^  Lysander  too  had  altars  raised  to  him  by  some  Asiatic  cities. 


Ill  THE  FAILURE  OF  NERVE  157 

save  or  benefit  mankind  was  a  more  godlike  thing  than 
to  blast  and  destroy  them?  Philosophers  have  generally 
said  that,  and  the  vulgar  pretended  to  believe  them. 
It  was  at  least  politic,  when  ministering  to  the  half- 
insane  pride  of  one  of  these  princes,  to  remind  him  of 
his  mercy  rather  than  of  his  wrath. 

Wendland  in  his  brilliant  book,  Helleiiistisch- 
romische  Kultur,  calls  attention  to  an  inscription  of 
the  year  196  b.c.  in  honour  of  the  young  Ptolemaios 
Epiphanes,  who  was  made  manifest  at  the  age  of 
twelve  years. -^  It  is  a  typical  document  of  Graeco- 
Egyptian  king-worship  : 

'  In  the  reign  of  the  young  king  by  inheritance 
from  his  Father,  Lord  of  the  Diadems,  great  in  glory, 
pacificator  of  Egypt  and  pious  towards  the  gods, 
superior  over  his  adversaries.  Restorer  of  the  life 
of  man.  Lord  of  the  Periods  of  Thirty  Years,  like 
Hephaistos  the  Great,  King  like  the  Sun,  the  Great 
King  of  the  Upper  and  Lower  Lands ;  offspring  of  the 
Gods  of  the  Love  of  the  Father,  whom  Hephaistos  has 
approved,  to  whom  the  Sun  has  given  Victory  ;  living 
image  of  Zeus ;  Son  of  the  Sun,  Ptolemaios  the  ever- 
living,  beloved  by  Phtha  ;  in  the  ninth  year  of  Aetos 
son  of  Aetos,  Priest  of  Alexander  and  the  Gods  Saviours 
and  the  Gods  Brethren  and  the  Gods  Benefactors  and 
the  Gods  of  the  Love  of  the  Father  and  the  God 
Manifest  for  whom  thanks  be  given  : ' 

The  Priests  who  came  to  his  coronation  ceremony 
at  Memphis  proclaim  : 

'  Seeing  that  King  Ptolemaios  ever-living,  beloved 

^  Dittenberger,  Inscr.  Orientis  Graeci,  90 ;  Wendland,  HeUenis- 
tisch-romische  Kultur,  1907,  pp.  74  f.  and  notes. 


158  THE  FAILURE  OF  NERVE  iii 

of  Phtha,  God  Manifest  for  whom  Thanks  be  given, 
born  of  King  Ptolemaios  and  Queen  Arsinoe,  the  Gods 
of  the  Love  of  the  Father,  has  done  many  benefactions 
to  the  Temples  and  those  in  them  and  all  those  beneath 
his  rule,  being  from  the  beginning  God  born  of  God 
and  Goddess,  like  Horus  son  of  Isis  and  Osiris,  who 
came  to  the  help  of  his  father  Osiris,  (and?)  in  his 
benevolent  disposition  towards  the  Gods  has  conse- 
crated to  the  temples  revenues  of  silver  and  of  corn, 
and  has  undergone  many  expenses  in  order  to  lead 
Egypt  into  the  sunlight  and  give  peace  to  the  Temples, 
and  has  with  all  his  powers  shown  love  of  mankind.' 

When  the  people  of  Lycopolis  revolted,  we  hear  : 

^  in  a  short  time  he  took  the  city  by  storm  and  slew 
all  the  Impious  who  dwelt  in  it,  even  as  Hermes  and 
Horus,  son  of  Isis  and  Osiris,  conquered  those  who  of 
old  revolted  in  the  same  regions  ...  in  return  for  which 
the  Gods  have  granted  him  Health  Victory  Power  and 
all  other  good  things,  the  Kingdom  remaining  to  him 
and  his  sons  for  time  everlasting.'  ^ 

The  conclusion  which  the  Priests  draw  from  these 

^  Several  of  the  phrases  are  interesting.  The  last  gift  of  the  heavenly 
gods  to  this  Theos  is  the  old  gift  of  Mana.  In  Hesiod  it  was  Kapro? 
re  Bly]  t€,  the  two  ministers  who  are  never  away  from  the  King  Zeus. 
In  Aeschylus  it  was  Kratos  and  Bia  who  subdue  Prometheus.  In 
Tyrtaeus  it  was  Nikt;  koI  Kapros.  In  other  inscriptions  of  the  Ptolemaic 
age  it  is  '^onrjpLa  kol  'Nlkt]  or  ^wrvypia  kol  ^lky)  aiojvioc.  In  the  current 
Christian  liturgies  it  is  '  the  Kingdom,  the  Power,  and  the  Glory '. 
R.  G.  E.^,  p.  155  n.  The  new  conception,  as  always,  is  rooted  in  the 
old.  '  The  Gods  Saviours,  Brethren,  &c.,  are  of  course  Ptolemy  Soter, 
Ptolemy  Philadelphus,  &c.,  and  their  Queens.'  The  phrases  eiKcbi/ 
^(ucra  Tov  A109,  vlo<;  tov  'HAtou,  ryyaTTT^/xevo?  vtto  tov  ^Oa,  are 
characteristic  of  the  religious  language  of  this  period.  Cf.  also  Col. 
i.  15,  elKwv  TOV  Ocov  TOV  dopuTov ;  2  Cor.  iv.  4  ;  Ephes.  i.  5,  6. 


Ill  THE  FAILURE  OF  NERVE  159 

facts  is  that  the  young  king's  titles  and  honours  are 
insufficient  and  should  be  increased.  It  is  a  typical 
and  terribly  un-Hellenic  document  of  the  Hellenistic 
God-man  in  his  appearance  as  King. 

Now  the  early  successors  of  Alexander  mostly  pro- 
fessed themselves  members  of  the  Stoic  school,  and 
in  the  mouth  of  a  Stoic  this  doctrine  of  the  potential 
divinity  of  man  was  an  inspiring  one.  To  them  virtue 
was  the  really  divine  thing  in  man  :  and  the  most 
divine  kind  of  virtue  was  that  of  helping  humanity. 
To  love  and  help  humanity  is,  according  to  Stoic 
doctrine,  the  work  and  the  very  essence  of  God.  If 
you  take  away  Pronoia  from  God,  says  Chrysippus,^ 
it  is  like  taking  away  light  and  heat  from  fire.  This 
doctrine  is  magnificently  expressed  by  Pliny  in  a 
phrase  that  is  probably  translated  from  Posidonius  : 
'  God  is  the  helping  of  man  by  man  ;  and  that  is  the 
way  to  eternal  glory.'  ^ 

The  conception  took  root  in  the  minds  of  many 
Romans.  A  great  Roman  governor  often  had  the 
chance  of  thus  helping  humanity  on  a  vast  scale,  and 
liked  to  think  that  such  a  life  opened  the  way  to  heaven. 
'  One  should  conceive,'  says  Cicero  {7usc.  i.  52),  '  the 
gods  as  like  men  who  feel  themselves  born  for  the  work 
of  helping,  defending,  and  saving  humanity.  Hercules 
has  passed  into  the  number  of  the  gods.     He  would 

1  Fr.  1 1 18,  Arnim.  Cf.  Antipater,  fr.  33,  34,  to  ^viroirjTLKov  is 
part  of  the  definition  of  Deity. 

2  Plin.,  Nat.  Hist.  ii.  7,  18.  Deus  est  mortali  iuvare  mortalem  et 
haec  ad  aeternam  gloriam  via.  Cf.  also  the  striking  passages  from 
Cicero  and  others  in  Wendland,  p.  85,  n.  2. 


140  THE  FAILURE  OF  NERVE  iii 

never  have  so  passed  if  he  had  not  built  up  that  road 
for  himself  v^hile  he  was  among  mankind.' 

I  have  been  using  some  rather  late  authors,  though 
the  ideas  seem  largely  to  come  from  Posidonius.-^ 
But  before  Posidonius  the  sort  of  fact  on  which  we 
have  been  dwelling  had  had  its  influence  on  religious 
speculation.  When  Alexander  made  his  conquering 
journey  to  India  and  afterwards  was  made  a  god,  it 
•was  impossible  not  to  reflect  that  almost  exactly  the 
same  story  was  related  in  myth  about  Dionysus. 
Dionysus  had  started  from  India  and  travelled  in  the 
other  direction :  that  was  the  only  difference.  A  flood 
of  light  seemed  to  be  thrown  on  all  the  traditional 
mythology,  which,  of  course,  had  always  been  a  puzzle 
to  thoughtful  men.  It  was  impossible  to  believe  it  as 
it  stood,  and  yet  hard — in  an  age  which  had  not  the 
conception  of  any  science  of  mythology — to  think  it 
was  all  a  mass  of  falsehood,  and  the  great  Homer  and 
Hesiod  no  better  than  liars.  But  the  generation  which 
witnessed  the  official  deification  of  the  various  Seleu- 
cidae  and  Ptolemies  seemed  suddenly  to  see  light.  The 
traditional  gods,  from  Heracles  and  Dionysus  up  to 
Zeus  and  Cronos  and  even  Ouranos,  were  simply  old- 
world  rulers  and  benefactors  of  mankind,  who  had,  by 
their  own  insistence  or  the  gratitude  of  their  subjects, 
been  transferred  to  the  ranks  of  heaven.  For  that  is 
the  exact  meaning  of  making  them  divine  :    they  are 

^  The  Stoic  philosopher,  teaching  at  Rhodes,  c.  100  B.C.  A  man  of 
immense  knowledge  and  strong  religious  emotions,  he  moved  the 
Stoa  in  the  direction  of  Oriental  mysticism.  See  Schwartz's  sketch  in 
Characterkopfe^,  pp.  89-98.    Also  Norden's  Commentary  on  Aeneid  vi. 


Ill 


THE  FAILURE  OF  NERVE  141 


classed  among  the  true  immortals,  the  Sun  and  Moon 
and  Stars  and  Corn  and  Wine,  and  the  everlasting 
elements. 

The  philosophic  romance  of  Euhemerus,  pubHshed 
early  in  the  third  century  b.c,  had  instantaneous 
success  and  enormous  influence.^  It  was  one  of  the 
first  Greek  books  translated  into  Latin,  and  became  long 
afterwards  a  favourite  weapon  of  the  Christian  fathers 
in  their  polemics  against  polytheism.  '  Euhemerism.' 
was,  on  the  face  of  it,  a  very  brilHant  theory ;  and  it  had, 
as  we  have  noticed,  a  special  appeal  for  the  Romans. 

Yet,  if  such  a  conception  might  please  the  leisure  of 
a  statesman,  it  could  hardly  satisfy  the  serious  thought 
of  a  philosopher  or  a  religious  man.  If  man's  soul 
really  holds  a  fragment  of  God  and  is  itself  a  divine 
being,  its  godhead  cannot  depend  on  the  possession 
of  great  riches  and  armies  and  organized  subordinates. 
If  '  the  helping  of  man  by  man  is  God  ',  the  help  in 
question  cannot  be  material  help.  The  religion  which 
ends  in  deifying  only  kings  and  milHonaires  may  be 
vulgarly  popular  but  is  self-condemned. 

As  a  matter  of  fact  the  general  tendency  of  Greek 
philosophy  after  Plato,  with  some  illustrious  exceptions, 
especially  among  the  Romanizing  Stoics,  was  away  from^ 
the  outer  world  towards  the  world  of  the  soul.     Wei 
find  in  the  religious  writings  of  this  period  that  the 
real  Saviour  of  men  is  not  he  who  protects  them  against  - 
earthquake  and  famine,  but  he  who  in  some  sense  saves 
their  souls.     He  reveals  to  them  the  Gnosis  Theou,  the 

1  Jacoby  in  Pauly-Wissowa's  Reakncyclopddic,  vi.  954.  It  was 
called  'lepa  'Avaypa^?/. 


142  THE  FAILURE  OF  NERVE  iii 

Knowledge  of  God.  The  '  knowledge  '  in  question  is 
not  a  mere  intellectual  knowledge.  It  is  a  complete 
union,  a  merging  of  beings.  And,  as  we  have  always 
to  keep  reminding  our  cold  modern  intelligence,  he 
who  has  '  known  '  God  is  himself  thereby  deified.  He 
is  the  Image  of  God,  the  Son  of  God,  in  a  sense  he  is 
God.  The  stratum  of  ideas  described  in  the  first  of 
the  studies  will  explain  the  ease  with  which  transi- 
tion took  place.  The  worshipper  of  Bacchos  became 
Bacchos  simply  enough,  because  in  reality  the  God 
Bacchos  was  originally  only  the  projection  of  the 
human  Bacchoi.  And  in  the  Hellenistic  age  the  notion 
of  these  secondary  mediating  gods  was  made  easier 
by  the  analogy  of  the  human  interpreters.  Of  course 
we  have  abundant  instances  of  actual  preachers  and 
miracle-workers  who  on  their  own  authority  posed, 
and  were  accepted,  as  gods.  The  adventure  of 
Paul  and  Barnabas  at  Lystra^  shows  how  easily 
such  things  could  happen.  But  as  a  rule,  I  suspect, 
the  most  zealous  priest  or  preacher  preferred  to  have 
his  God  in  the  background.  He  preaches,  he  heals  the 
sick  and  casts  out  devils,  not  in  his  own  name  but  in 
the  name  of  One  who  sent  him.  This  actual  present 
priest  who  initiates  you  or  me  is  himself  already  an 
Image  of  God  ;  but  above  him  there  are  greater  and 
wiser  priests,  above  them  others,  and  above  all  there  is 
the  one  eternal  Divine  Mediator,  who  being  in  perfec- 

^  Acts  xiv.   12.  They  called  Barnabas  Zeus  and  Paul  Hermes, 

because  he  was   6  r}yovfjL€vo<s   tov  Xoyov. — Paul  also  writes   to   the 

Galatians  (iv.  14)  :  'Ye  received  me  as  a  messenger  of  God,  as  Jesus 
Christ: 


Ill  THE  FAILURE  OF  NERVE  145 

tion  both  man  and  God  can  alone  fully  reveal  God  to 
man,  and  lead  man's  soul  up  the  heavenly  path,  beyond 
Change  and  Fate  and  the  Houses  of  the  Seven  Rulers, 
to  its  ultimate  peace.  I  have  seen  somewhere  a 
Gnostic  or  early  Christian  emblem  which  indicates 
this  doctrine.  Some  Shepherd  or  Saviour  stands,  his 
feet  on  the  earth,  his  head  towering  above  the  planets, 
lifting  his  follower  in  his  outstretched  arms. 

The  Gnostics  are  still  commonly  thought  of  as  a  body  \ 
of  Christian  heretics.  In  reality  there  were  Gnostic  ' 
sects  scattered  over  the  Hellenistic  world  before 
Christianity  as  well  as  after.  They  must  have  been 
established  in  Antioch  and  probably  in  Tarsus  well 
before  the  days  of  Paul  or  Apollos.  Their  Saviour, 
like  the  Jewish  Messiah,  was  established  in  men's  minds 
before  the  Saviour  of  the  Christians.  '  If  we  look 
close,'  says  Professor  Bousset,  '  the  result  emerges  with 
great  clearness,  that  the  figure  of  the  Redeemer  as  such 
did  not  wait  for  Christianity  to  force  its  way  into  the 
religion  of  Gnosis,  but  was  already  present  there  under 
various  forms.'  ^  He  occurs  notably  in  two  pre- 
Christian  documents,  discovered  by  the  keen  analysis 
and  profound  learning  of  Dr.  Reitzenstein  :  the  , 
Poimandres  revelation  printed  in  the  Corpus  Hermeti- 
cum,  and  the  sermon  of  the  Naassenes  in  Hippolytus, 
Refutatio  Omnium  Haeresium,  which  is  combined  with 
Attis-worship.^  The  violent  anti-Jewish  bias  of  most 
of  the  sects — they  speak  of  '  the  accursed  God  of  the 
Jews  '  and  identify  him  with  Saturn  and  the  Devil — 

^  Bousset,  p.  238. 

2  Hippolytus,  1 34, 90  ft'.,  text  in  Reitzenstein's  Poimandres,  pp.  83-98 . 


144  THE  FAILURE  OF  NERVE  iii 

points  on  the  whole  to  pre-Christian  conditions ;  and 
a  completely  non-Christian  standpoint  is  still  visible 
in  the  Mandaean  and  Manichean  systems. 

Their  Redeemer  is  descended  by  a  fairly  clear 
genealogy  from  the  '  Tritos  Soter  '  of  early  Greece, 
contaminated  with  similar  figures,  like  Attis  and 
Adonis  from  Asia  Minor,  Osiris  from  Egypt,  and 
the  special  Jewish  conception  of  the  Messiah  of  the 
Chosen  people.  He  has  various  names,  which  the  name 
of  Jesus  or  '  Christos  ',  '  the  Anointed,'  tends  gradually 
to  supersede.  Above  all  he  is,  in  some  sense,  Man,  or 
'  the  Second  Man  '  or  '  the  Son  of  Man  '.  The  origin 
of  this  phrase  needs  a  word  of  explanation.  Since  the 
ultimate  unseen  God,  spirit  though  He  is,  made  Man 
in  His  image,  since  holy  men  (and  divine  kings)  are 
images  of  God,  it  follows  that  He  is  Himself  Man.  He 
is  the  real,  the  ultimate,  the  perfect  and  eternal  Man, 
of  whom  all  bodily  men  are  feeble  copies.  He  is  also 
the  Father ;  the  Saviour  is  his  Son,  '  the  Image  of  the 
Father,'  '  the  Second  Man,'  '  the  Son  of  Man.'  The 
method  in  which  he  performs  his  mystery  of  Redemp- 
tion varies.  It  is  haunted  by  the  memory  of  the  old 
Suffering  and  Dying  God,  of  whom  we  spoke  in  the 
first  of  these  studies.  It  is  vividly  affected  by  the  ideal 
'  Righteous  Man  '  of  Plato,  who  '  shall  be  scourged, 
tortured,  bound,  his  eyes  burnt  out,  and  at  last,  after 
suffering  every  evil,  shall  be  impaled  or  crucified 


J 1 


1  Republic,  362  A.  'Avaa-xivSvXevoi  is  said  to  =  dmcrKoXoTrt^w,  which 
is  used  both  for  '  impale  '  and  '  crucify  '.  The  two  were  alternative 
forms  of  the  most  slavish  and  cruel  capital  punishment,  impalement 
being  mainly  Persian,  crucifixion  Roman. 


Ill  THE  FAILURE  OF  NERVE  145 

But  in  the  main  he  descends,  of  his  free  will  or  by  the 
eternal  purpose  of  the  Father,  from  Heaven  through 
the  spheres  of  all  the  Archontes  or  Kosmokratores, 
the  planets,  to  save  mankind,  or  sometimes  to  save  the 
fallen  Virgin,  the  Soul,  Wisdom,  or  '  the  Pearl '  ^  The 
Archontes  let  him  pass  because  he  is  disguised  ;  they 
do  not  know  him  (cf.  i  Cor.  ii.  7  ff.).  When  his  work 
is  done  he  ascends  to  Heaven  to  sit  by  the  side  of  the 
Father  in  glory  ;  he  conquers  the  Archontes,  leads  them 
captive  in  his  triumph,  strips  them  of  their  armour 
(Col.  ii.  15  ;  cf.  the  previous  verse),  sometimes  even 
crucifies  them  for  ever  in  their  places  in  the  sky.'*^  The 
epistles  to  the  Colossians  and  the  Ephesians  are  much 
influenced  by  these  doctrines.  Paul  himself  constantly 
uses  the  language  of  them,  but  in  the  main  we  find 
him  discouraging  the  excesses  of  superstition,  reforming, 
ignoring,  rejecting.  His  Jewish  blood  was  perhaps 
enough  to  keep  him  to  strict  monotheism.  Though  he 
admits  Angels  and  Archontes,  Principalities  and  Powers, 
he  scorns  the  Elements  and  he  seems  deliberately  to 
reverse  the  doctrine  of  the  first  and  second  Man.^  He 
says  nothing  about  the  Trinity  of  Divine  Beings  that 
was  usual  in  Gnosticism,  nothing  about  the  Divine 
Mother.  His  mind,  for  all  its  vehement  mysticism 
and  enthusiasm,  has  something  of  that  clean  antiseptic 
quality  that  makes  the  works  of  such  early  Christians 
as  Minucius  Felix  and  Diognetus  so  infinitely  refreshing. 

1  See  The  Hymn  of  the  Soul,  attributed  to  the  Gnostic  Bardesanes, 
edited  by  A.  A.  Bevan,  Cambridge,  1897. 

2  Bousset  cites  Acta  Archelai  8,  and  Epiphanius,  Haeres.  66.  32. 

3  Gal.  iv.  9  ;    l  Cor.  xv.  21  f.,  47  ;   Rom.  v.  12-18. 

p.  p.  648  K 


146  THE  FAILURE  OF  NERVE  iii 

He  is  certainly  one  of  the  great  figures  in  Greek  litera- 
ture, but  his  system  lies  outside  the  subject  of  this 
essay.  We  are  concerned  only  with  those  last  mani- 
festations of  Hellenistic  religion  which  probably  formed 
the  background  of  his  philosophy.  It  is  strange  to 
reflect,  and  it  shows  what  queer  stuff  we  humans  are 
made  of,  that  it  was  these  obscure  congregations, 
superstitious  and  over-emotional,  mostly  ignorant 
and  often  the  prey  of  charlatans,  who  held  the  main 
road  of  advance  towards  the  greatest  religion  of  the 
western  world. 

I  have  tried  to  sketch  in  outline  the  main  forms 
of  belief  to  which  Hellenistic  philosophy  moved  or 
drifted.  Let  me  dwell  for  a  few  pages  more  upon  the 
characteristic  method  by  which  it  reached  them.  It 
may  be  summed  up  in  one  word.  Allegory.  All 
Hellenistic  philosophy  from  the  first  Stoics  onwards 
is  permeated  by  allegory.  It  is  applied  to  Homer,  to 
the  religious  traditions,  to  the  ancient  rituals,  to  the 
whole  world.  To  Sallustius  after  the  end  of  our  period 
the  whole  material  world  is  only  a  great  myth,  a  thing 
whose  value  lies  not  in  itself  but  in  the  spiritual  meaning 
which  it  hides  and  reveals.  To  Cleanthes  at  the 
beginning  of  it  the  Universe  was  a  mystic  pageant, 
in  which  the  immortal  stars  were  the  dancers  and  the 
Sun  the  priestly  torch-bearer.^  Chrysippus  reduced  the 
Homeric  gods  to  physical  or  ethical  principles ;  and 
Crates,  the  great  critic,  applied  allegory  in  detail  to 

^  Cleanthes,  538,  Arnim  ;  Diels,  p.  592,  30.  Cf.  Philolaus,  Diels 
pp.  336  f. 


Ill  THE  FAILURE  OF  NERVE  147 

his  interpretation  of  the  all-wise  poet.-"-     We  possess 
two    small    but    complete    treatises    which    illustrate 
well  the  results  of  this  tendency,  Cornutus  jrepi  decov 
and  the  Ho7neric  Allegories  of  Heraclitus,  a  brilliant 
little  work  of  the  first  century  b.  c.     I  will  not  dwell 
upon   details  :     they   are   abundantly   accessible   and 
individually  often  ridiculous.     A  by-product  of  the 
same   activity  is   the  mystic  treatment  of   language  : 
a  certain  Titan  in  Hesiod   is   named    Koios.     Why? 
Because  the  Titans  are  the  elements  and  one  of  them 
is  naturally  the  element  of  Koiott;?,  the  Ionic  Greek 
for   '  Quality  '.     The   Egyptian   Isis  is  derived  from 
the  root   of  the  Greek   eiSeVat,  Knowledge,  and  the 
Egyptian  Osiris  from  the  Greek  oVtos  and  lp6^  {'  holy ' 
and  '  sacred  ',  or  perhaps  more  exactly  '  lawful '  and 
'  tabu  ').     Is  this  totally  absurd  ?    I  think  not.     If  all 
human  language  is,  as  most  of  these  thinkers  believed, 
a  divine  institution,  a  cup  filled  to  the  brim  with  divine 
meaning,  so  that  by  reflecting  deeply  upon  a  word 
a  pious  philosopher  can  reach  the  secret  that  it  holds, 
then  there  is  no  difficulty  whatever  in  supposing  that 
the  special  secret  held  by  an  Egyptian  word  may  be 
found  in  Greek,  or  the  secret  of  a  Greek  word  in  Baby- 
lonian.    Language  is  One.     The  Gods  who  made  all 
these  languages  equally  could  use  them  all,  and  wind 
them  all  intricately  in  and  out,  for  the  building  up 
of  their  divine  enigma. 

We  must  make  a  certain  effort  of  imagination  to 
understand   this  method  of  allegory.     It  is  not  the 

1  See  especially   the   interpretation  of  Nestor's  Cup,  Athenaeus, 
pp.  489  c.  ff. 

K  2 


148  THE  FAILURE  OF  NERVE  iii 

frigid  thing  that  it  seems  to  us.  In  the  first  place,  we 
should  remember  that,  as  applied  to  the  ancient  litera- 
ture and  religious  ritual,  allegory  was  at  least  a  vera 
causa — it  was  a  phenomenon  which  actually  existed. 
Heraclitus  of  Ephesus  is  an  obvious  instance.  He 
deliberately  expressed  himself  in  language  which  should 
not  be  understood  of  the  vulgar,  and  which  bore  a 
hidden  meaning  to  his  disciples.  Pythagoras  did  the 
same.  The  prophets  and  religious  writers  must  have 
done  so  to  an  even  greater  extent.^  And  we  know 
enough  of  the  history  of  ritual  to  be  sure  that  a  great 
deal  of  it  is  definitely  allegorical.  The  Hellenistic  Age 
did  not  wantonly  invent  the  theory  of  allegory. 

And  secondly,  we  must  remember  what  states  of 
mind  tend  especially  to  produce  this  kind  of  behef. 
They  are  not  contemptible  states  of  mind.  It  needs 
only  a  strong  ideahsm  with  which  the  facts  of  experi- 
ence clash,  and  allegory  follows  almost  of  necessity. 
The  facts  cannot  be  accepted  as  they  are.  They  must 
needs  be  explained  as  meaning  something  different. 

Take  an  earnest  Stoic  or  Platonist,  a  man  of  fervid 
mind,  who  is  possessed  by  the  ideals  of  his  philosophy 
and  at  the  same  time  feels  his  heart  thrilled  by  the 
beauty  of  the  old  poetry.  What  is  he  to  do  ?  On  one 
side  he  can  find  Zoilus,  or  Plato  himself,  or  the  Cynic 
preachers,  condemning  Homer  and  the  poets  without 
remorse,  as  teachers  of  fooHshness.  He  can  treat  poetry 
as  the  EngHsh  Puritans  treated  the  stage.     But  is  that 

^  I  may  refer  to  the  learned  and  interesting  remarks  on  the  Esoteric 
Style  in  Prof.  Margoliouth's  edition  of  Aristotle's  Poetics.  It  is  not,  of 
course,  the  same  as  Allegory. 


Ill  THE  FAILURE  OF  NERVE  149 

a  satisfactory  solution  ?  Remember  that  these  genera- 
tions were  trained  habitually  to  give  great  weight  to 
the  voice  of  their  inner  consciousness,  and  the  inner 
consciousness  of  a  sensitive  man  cries  out  that  any  such 
solution  is  false  :  that  Homer  is  not  a  liar,  but  noble 
and  great,  as  our  fathers  have  always  taught  us.  On 
the  other  side  comes  Heraclitus  the  allegorist.  '  If 
Homer  used  no  allegories  he  committed  all  impieties.' 
On  this  theory  the  words  can  be  allowed  to  possess  all 
their  old  beauty  and  magic,  but  an  inner  meaning  is 
added  quite  different  from  that  which  they  bear  on 
the  surface.  It  may,  very  likely,  be  a  duller  and  less 
poetic  meaning  ;  but  I  am  not  sure  that  the  verses 
will  not  gain  by  the  mere  process  of  brooding  study 
fully  as  much  as  they  lose  by  the  ultimate  badness  of  the 
interpretation.  Anyhow,  that  was  the  road  followed. 
The  men  of  whom  I  speak  were  not  likely  to  give  up 
any  experience  that  seemed  to  make  the  world  more 
godlike  or  to  feed  their  spiritual  and  emotional  cravings. 
They  left  that  to  the  barefooted  cynics.  They  craved 
poetry  and  they  craved  philosophy  ;  if  the  two  spoke 
like  enemies,  their  words  must  needs  be  explained  away 
by  one  who  loved  both. 

The  same  process  was  applied  to  the  world  itself. 
Something  like  it  is  habitually  applied  by  the  religious 
idealists  of  all  ages.  A  fundamental  doctrine  of 
Stoicism  and  most  of  the  idealist  creeds  was  the 
perfection  and  utter  blessedness  of  the  world,  and 
the  absolute  fulfilment  of  the  purpose  of  God.  Now 
obviously  this  belief  was  not  based  on  experience.  The 
poor  world,  to  do  it  justice  amid  all  its  misdoings,  has 


150  THE  FAILURE  OF  NERVE  iii 

never  lent  itself  to  any  such  barefaced  deception  as 
that.  No  doubt  it  shrieked  against  the  doctrine  then, 
as  loud  as  it  has  always  shrieked,  so  that  even  a  Posi- 
donian  or  a  Neo-Platonist,  his  ears  straining  for  the 
music  of  the  spheres,  was  sometimes  forced  to  listen. 
And  what  was  his  answer  ?  It  is  repeated  in  all  the 
literature  of  these  sects.  '  Our  human  experience  is 
so  small  :  the  things  of  the  earth  may  be  bad  and  more 
than  bad,  but,  ah  !  if  you  only  went  beyond  the 
Moon!'  That  is  where  the  true  Kosmos  begins.  And,  of 
course,  if  we  did  ever  go  there,  we  all  know  they  would 
say  it  began  beyond  the  Sun.  Ideahsm  of  a  certain 
type  will  have  its  way ;  if  hard  life  produces  an  ounce 
or  a  pound  or  a  milHon  tons  of  fact  in  the  scale  against  it, 
it  merely  dreams  of  infinite  millions  in  its  own  scale, 
and  the  enemy  is  outweighed  and  smothered.  I  do 
not  wish  to  mock  at  these  Posidonian  Stoics  and 
Hermetics  and  Gnostics  and  Neo-Platonists.  They 
loved  goodness,  and  their  faith  is  strong  and  even 
terrible.  One  feels  rather  inclined  to  bow  down  before 
their  altars  and  cry  :   Magna  est  Delusio  et  praevalebit. 

Yet  on  the  whole  one  rises  from  these  books  with  the 
impression  that  all  this  allegory  and  mysticism  is  bad 
for  men.  It  may  make  the  emotions  sensitive,  it  cer- 
tainly weakens  the  understanding.  And,  of  course,  in 
this  paper  I  have  left  out  of  account  many  of  the 
grosser  forms  of  superstition.  In  any  consideration  of 
the  balance,  they  should  not  be  forgotten. 

If  a  reader  of  Proclus  and  the  Corpus  Hermeticum 
wants  relief,  he  will  find  it,  perhaps,  best  in  the  writings 


Ill  THE  FAILURE  OF  NERVE  151 

of  a  gentle  old  Epicurean  who  lived  at  Oenoanda  in 
Cappadocia  about  a.d.  200.  His  name  was  Diogenes.^ 
His  works  are  preserved,  in  a  fragmentary  state,  not 
on  papyrus  or  parchment,  but  on  the  wall  of  a  large 
portico  where  he  engraved  them  for  passers-by  to  read. 
He  lived  in  a  world  of  superstition  and  foolish  terror, 
and  he  wrote  up  the  great  doctrines  of  Epicurus  for  the 
saving  of  mankind. 

'  Being  brought  by  age  to  the  sunset  of  my  life, 
and  expecting  at  any  moment  to  take  my  departure 
from  the  world  with  a  glad  song  for  the  fullness  of  my 
happiness,  I  have  resolved,  lest  I  be  taken  too  soon,  to 
give  help  to  those  of  good  temperament.  If  one  person 
or  two  or  three  or  four,  or  any  small  number  you 
choose,  were  in  distress,  and  I  were  summoned  out 
to  help  one  after  another,  I  would  do  all  in  my  power 
to  give  the  best  counsel  to  each.  But  now,  as  I  have 
said,  the  most  of  men  lie  sick,  as  it  were  of  a  pestilence, 
in  their  false  beliefs  about  the  world,  and  the  tale  of 
them  increases  ;  for  by  imitation  they  take  the  disease 
from  one  another,  like  sheep.  And  further  it  is  only 
just  to  bring  help  to  those  who  shall  come  after  us — for 
they  too  are  ours,  though  they  be  yet  unborn  ;  and 
love  for  man  conimands  us  also  to  help  strangers  who 
may  pass  by.  Since  therefore  the  good  message  of  the 
Book  has  gone  forth  to  many,  I  have  resolved  to  make 
use  of  this  wall  and  to  set  forth  in  public  the  medicine 
of  the  healing  of  mankind.' 

The  people  of  his  time  and  neighbourhood  seem  to 

have  fancied  that  the  old  man  must  have  some  bad 

motive.     They  understood  mysteries  and  redemptions 

and  revelations.     They  understood  magic  and  curses. 

^  Published  in  the  Teubner  series  by  WilHam,  1907. 


152  THE  FAILURE  OF  NERVE  iii 

But  they  were  puzzled,  apparently,  by  this  simple 
message,  which  only  told  them  to  use  their  reason, 
their  courage  and  their  sympathy,  and  not  to  be 
afraid  of  death  or  of  angry  gods.  The  doctrine  was 
condensed  into  four  sentences  of  a  concentrated 
eloquence  that  make  a  translator  despair  :  ^  '  Nothing  I 
to  fear  in  God  :  Nothing  to  feel  in  Death :  Good  can 
be  attained  :   Evil  can  be  endured.' 

Of  course  the  doctrines  of  this  good  old  man  do  not 
represent  the  whole  truth.  To  be  guided  by  one's 
aversions  is  always  a  sign  of  weakness  or  defeat ;  and 
it  is  as  much  a  failure  of  nerve  to  reject  blindly  for 
fear  of  being  a  fool,  as  to  believe  blindly  for  fear  of 
missing  some  emotional  stimulus. 

There  is  no  royal  road  in  these  matters.  I  confess 
it  seems  strange  to  me  as  I  write  here,  to  reflect  that 
at  this  moment  many  of  my  friends  and  most  of  my 
fellow  creatures  are,  as  far  as  one  can  judge,  quite 
confident  that  they  possess  supernatural  knowledge. 
As  a  rule,  each  individual  belongs  to  some  body  which 
has  received  in  writing  the  results  of  a  divine  revelation. 
I  cannot  share  in  any  such  feeling.  "fThe  uncharted 
surrounds  us  on  every  side  and  we  must  needs  have 
some  relation  towards  it,  a  relation  which  will  depend 
on  the  general  discipline  of  a  man's  mind  and  the  bias 
of  his  whole  character.  As  far  as  knowledge  and 
conscious  reason  will  go,  we  should  follow  resolutely 

^  "Acfio/^ov  6  ^eos-      ^ KvaLaOrjTov  o  Odvaro's. 

To  ayaOov  iVKT'qrov,     To  O^lvov  eviKKapTeprjrov. 
I  regret  to  say  that  I  cannot  track  this  Epicurean  '  tetractys '  to  its 
source. 


Ill  THE  FAILURE  OF  NERVE  155 

their  austere  guidance.  When  they  cease,  as  cease  they 
must,  we  must  use  as  best  we  can  those  fainter  powers 
of  apprehension  and  surmise  and  sensitiveness  by 
which,  after  all,  most  high  truth  has  been  reached  as 
well  as  most  high  art  and  poetry  :  careful  always  really 
to  seek  for  truth  and  not  for  our  own  emotional 
satisfaction,  careful  not  to  neglect  the  real  needs  of 
men  and  women  through  basing  our  life  on  dreams ;  and 
remembering  above  all  to  walk  gently  in  a  world  where 
the  lights  are  dim  and  the  very  stars  wander. 

Bibliographical  Note 

It  is  not  my  purpose  to  make  anything  like  a  systematic  bibliography, 
but  a  few  recommendations  may  be  useful  to  some  students  who 
approach  this  subject,  as  I  have  done,  from  the  side  of  classical  Greek. 

For  Greek  Philosophy  I  have  used  besides  Plato  and  Aristotle, 
Diogenes  Laertius  and  Philodemus,  Diels,  Fragmenfe  der  Vorsokratiker ; 
Diels,  Doxographi  Graeci ;  von  Arnim,  Stoicorum  Veterum  Fragmenta  ; 
Usener,  Epicurea  ;   also  the  old  Fragmenta  Philosophorum  of  Mullach. 

For  later  Paganism  and  Gnosticism,  Reitzenstein,  Potmandres; 
Reitzenstein,  Die  Hellenistischen  Mysterienreligionen  ;  Dieterich,  Fine 
Mithrasliturgie  (also  Abraxas,  Nekyia,  Muttererde,  &c.)  ;  P.  Wend- 
land,  Hellenistisch-Romische  Kultur;  Cumont,  Textes  et  Monuments 
relatifs  aux  Mysteres  de  Mithra  (also  The  Mysteries  of  Mithra,  Chicago, 
1903),  and  Les  Religions  Orientates  dans  VEmfire  Rom  a  in  ;  Seeck, 
Untergang  der  antiken  Welt,  vol.  iii ;  Philo,  de  Vita  Contemplativa, 
Conybeare  ;  Gruppe,  Griechische  Religion  und  Mythologie,  pp.  1458- 
1676  ;  Bousset,  Hauptprobleme  der  Gnosis,  1907,  with  good  biblio- 
graphy in  the  introduction ;  articles  by  E.  Bevan  in  the  Quarterly 
Reviezv,  No.  424  (June  19 10),  and  the  Hibbert  Journal,  xi.  i 
(October  191 2).  Dokumente  der  Gnosis,  by  W.  Schultz  (Jena,  1910), 
gives  a  highly  subjective  translation  and  reconstruction  of  most  of 
the  Gnostic  documents  :  the  Corpus  Hermeticum  is  translated  into 
English  by  G.  R.  S.  Meade,  Thrice  Greatest  Hermes,  1906. 


154  THE  FAILURE  OF  NERVE  iii 

For  Jewish  thought  before  the  Christian  era  Dr.  Charles's  Testa- 
ments of  the  Twelve  Patriarchs  ;  also  the  same  writer's  Book  of  Enochs 
and  the  Religionsgeschichtliche  Erkldrung  des  Neuen  Testaments  by 
Carl  Clemen,  Giessen,  1909. 

Of  Christian  writers  apart  from  the  New  Testament  those  that 
come  most  into  account  are  Hippolytus  (t  a.d.  250),  Refutatio  Omnium 
Haeresium,  Epiphanius  (367-403),  Panarion,  and  Irenaeus  (t  a.d.  202), 
Contra  Haereses,  i,  ii.  For  a  simple  introduction  to  the  problems 
presented  by  the  New  Testament  literature  I  would  venture  to 
recommend  Prof.  Bacon's  New  Testament,  in  the  Home  University 
Library,  and  Dr.  EstHn  Carpenter's  First  Three  Gospels.  In  such  a  vast 
literature  I  dare  not  make  any  further  recommendations,  but  for  a 
general  introduction  to  the  History  of  Religions  with  a  good  and  brief 
bibliography  I  would  refer  the  reader  to  Salomon  Reinach's  Orpheus 
(Paris,  1909 ;  English  translation  the  same  year),  a  book  of  wide 
learning  and  vigorous  thought. 


IV 
THE  LAST  PROTEST 


IV 

THE  LAST  PROTEST 

In  the  last  essay  we  have  followed  Greek  popular 
religion  to  the  very  threshold  of  Christianity,  till  we 
found  not  only  a  soil  ready  for  the  seed  of  Christian 
metaphysic,  but  a  large  number  of  the  plants  already 
in  full  and  exuberant  growth.  A  complete  history 
of  Greek  religion  ought,  without  doubt,  to  include  at 
least  the  rise  of  Christianity  and  the  growth  of  the 
Orthodox  Church,  but,  of  course,  the  present  series  of 
studies  does  not  aim  at  completeness.  We  will  take 
the  Christian  theology  for  granted  as  we  took  the 
classical  Greek  philosophy,  and  will  finish  with  a  brief 
glance  at  the  Pagan  reaction  of  the  fourth  century, 
when  the  old  religion,  already  full  of  allegory,  mysticism, 
asceticism,  and  Oriental  influences,  raised  itself  for  a 
last  indignant  stand  against  the  all-prevailing  deniers 
of  the  gods. 

This  period,  however,  admits  a  rather  simpler  treat- 
ment than  the  others.  It  so  happens  that  for  the  last 
period  of  paganism  we  actually  possess  an  authoritative 
statement  of  doctrine,  something  between  a  creed  and 
a  catechism.  It  seems  to  me  a  document  so  singularly 
important  and,  as  far  as  I  can  make  out,  so  httle  known, 
that  I  shall  venture  to  print  it  entire. 


i 


158  THE  LAST  PROTEST  iv 

A  creed  or  catechism  is,  of  course,  not  at  all  the  same 
thing  as  the  real  religion  of  those  who  subscribe  to  it. 
The  rules  of  metre  are  not  the  same  thing  as  poetry  ; 
the  rules  of  cricket,  if  the  analogy  may  be  excused,  are 
not  the  same  thing  as  good  play.  Nay,  more.  A  man 
states  in  his  creed  only  the  articles  which  he  thinks 
it  right  to  assert  positively  against  those  who  think 
otherwise.  His  deepest  and  most  practical  beliefs  are 
those  on  which  he  acts  without  question,  which  have 
never  occurred  to  him  as  being  open  to  doubt.  If  you 
take  on  the  one  hand  a  number  of  persons  who  have 
accepted  the  same  creed  but  lived  in  markedly  different 
ages  and  societies,  with  markedly  different  standards 
of  thought  and  conduct,  and  on  the  other  an  equal 
number  who  profess  dift'erent  creeds  but  live  in  the 
same  general  environment,  I  think  there  will  probably 
be  more  real  identity  of  religion  in  the  latter  group. 
Take  three  orthodox  Christians,  enlightened  according 
to  the  standards  of  their  time,  in  the  fourth,  the 
sixteenth,  and  the  twentieth  centuries  respectively, 
I  think  you  will  find  more  profound  differences  of 
religion  between  them  than  between  a  Methodist, 
a  Catholic,  a  Freethinker,  and  even  perhaps  a  well- 
educated  Buddhist  or  Brahmin  at  the  present  day, 
provided  you  take  the  most  generally  enlightened 
representatives  of  each  class.  Still,  when  a  student  is 
trying  to  understand  the  inner  religion  of  the  ancients, 
he  realizes  how  immensely  valuable  a  creed  or  even 
a  regular  liturgy  would  be. 

Literature  enables  us  sometimes  to  approach  pretty 
close,  in  various  ways,  to  the  minds  of  certain  of  the 


IV  THE  LAST  PROTEST  159 

great  men  of  antiquity,  and  understand  how  they 
thought  and  felt  about  a  good  many  subjects.  At 
times  one  of  these  subjects  is  the  accepted  rehgion  of 
their  society ;  we  can  see  how  they  criticized  it  or 
rejected  it.  But  it  is  very  hard  to  know  from  their 
reactions  against  it  what  that  accepted  rehgion  really 
was.  Who,  for  instance,  knows  Herodotus's  religion  ? 
He  talks  in  his  penetrating  and  garrulous  way,  '  some- 
times for  children  and  sometimes  for  philosophers,'  as 
Gibbon  puts  it,  about  everything  in  the  world  ;  but 
at  the  end  of  his  book  you  find  that  he  has  not  opened 
his  heart  on  this  subject.  No  doubt  his  profession 
as  a  reciter  and  story-teller  prevented  him.  We  can 
see  that  Thucydides  was  sceptical ;  but  can  we  fully 
see  what  his  scepticism  was  directed  against,  or  where, 
for  instance,  Nikias  would  have  disagreed  with  him, 
and  where  he  and  Nikias  both  agreed  against  us  ? 

We  have,  of  course,  the  systems  of  the  great  philo- 
sophers— especially  of  Plato  and  Aristotle.  Better  than 
either,  perhaps,  we  can  make  out  the  religion  of 
M.  Aurelius.  Amid  all  the  harshness  and  plainness 
of  his  literary  style,  Marcus  possessed  a  gift  which  has 
been  granted  to  few,  the  power  of  writing  down  what 
was  in  his  heart  just  as  it  was,  not  obscured  by 
any  consciousness  of  the  presence  of  witnesses  or  any 
striving  after  effect.  He  does  not  seem  to  have  tried 
deliberately  to  reveal  himself,  yet  he  has  revealed 
himself  in  that  short  personal  note-book  almost  as 
much  as  the  great  inspired  egotists,  Rousseau  and 
St.  Augustine.  True,  there  are  some  passages  in 
the   book  which    are   unintelligible    to    us ;    that    is 


i6o  THE  LAST  PROTEST  iv 

natural  in  a  work  which  was  not  meant  to  be  read 
by  the  pubhc  ;  broken  flames  of  the  white  passion 
that  consumed  him  bursting  through  the  armour  of 
his  habitual  accuracy  and  self-restraint. 

People  fail  to  understand  Marcus,  not  because  of  his 
lack  of  self-expression,  but  because  it  is  hard  for  most 
men  to  breathe  at  that  intense  height  of  spiritual  life, 
or,  at  least,  to  breathe  soberly.  They  can  do  it  if  they 
are  allowed  to  abandon  themselves  to  floods  of  emotion, 
and  lose  self -judgement  and  self-control.  I  am  often 
rather  surprised  at  good  critics  speaking  of  Marcus  as 
*  cold  '.  There  is  as  much  intensity  of  feeling  in  Ta 
eU  kavTov  as  in  most  of  the  nobler  modern  books  of 
religion,  only  there  is  a  sterner  power  controlling  it. 
The  feeling  never  amounts  to  complete  self-abandon- 
ment. '  The  Guiding  Power '  never  trembles  upon  its 
throne,  and  the  emotion  is  severely  purged  of  earthly 
dross.  That  being  so,  we  children  of  earth  respond 
to  it  less  readily. 

Still,  whether  or  no  we  can  share  Marcus's  religion, 
we  can  at  any  rate  understand  most  of  it.  But  even 
then  we  reach  only  the  personal  religion  of  a  very 
extraordinary  man  ;  we  are  not  much  nearer  to  the 
religion  of  the  average  educated  person — the  back- 
ground against  which  Marcus,  like  Plato,  ought  to  stand 
out.  I  believe  that  our  conceptions  of  it  are  really 
very  vague  and  various.  Our  great-grandfathers 
who  read  Tully's  Offices  and  Ends  were  better  in- 
formed than  we.  But  there  are  many  large  and 
apparently  simple  questions  about  which,  even  after 


IV 


THE  LAST  PROTEST  i6i 


reading  Cicero's  philosophical  translations,  scholars 
probably  feel  quite  uncertain.  Were  the  morals  of 
Epictetus  or  the  morals  of  Part  V  of  the  Anthology 
most  near  to  those  of  real  life  among  respectable  per- 
sons ?  Are  there  not  subjects  on  which  Plato  himself 
sometimes  makes  our  flesh  creep  ?  What  are  we  to  feel 
about  slavery,  about  the  exposing  of  children  ?  True, 
slavery  was  not  peculiar  to  antiquity  ;  it  flourished  in 
a  civiHzed  and  pecuHarly  humane  people  of  English 
blood  till  a  generation  ago.  And  the  history  of 
infanticide  among  the  finest  modern  nations  is  such  as 
to  make  one  reluctant  to  throw  stones,  and  even  doubt- 
ful in  which  direction  to  throw  them.  Still,  these 
great  facts  and  others  like  them  have  to  be  understood, 
and  are  rather  hard  to  understand,  in  their  bearing  on 
the  religious  life  of  the  ancients. 

Points  of  minor  morals  again  are  apt  to  surprise  a 
reader  of  ancient  literature.  We  must  remember,  of 
course,  that  they  always  do  surprise  one,  in  every  age  of 
history,  as  soon  as  its  manners  are  studied  in  detail.  One 
need  not  go  beyond  Salimbene's  Chronicle,  one  need 
hardly  go  beyond  Macaulay's  History,  or  any  of  the 
famous  French  memoirs,  to  realize  that.  Was  it  really 
an  ordinary  thing  in  the  first  century,  as  Philo  seems 
to  say,  for  gentlemen  at  dinner-parties  to  black  one 
another's  eyes  or  bite  one  another's  ears  off  ?  ^  Or  were 
such  practices  confined  to  some  Smart  Set?  Or  was 
Philo,  for  his  own  purposes,  using  some  particular 
scandalous  occurrence  as  if  it  was  typical  ? 

St.  Augustine  mentions  among  the  virtues  of  his 
1  De  Fit.  CotitempL,  p.  477  M. 


p.  p.  648 


1 62  THE  LAST  PROTEST  iv 

mother  her  unusual  meekness  and  tact.  Although  her 
husband  had  a  fiery  temper,  she  never  had  bruises  on 
her  face,  which  made  her  a  rara  avis  among  the  matrons 
of  her  circle.-^  Her  circle,  presumably,  included 
Christians  as  well  as  Pagans  and  Manicheans.  And 
Philo's  circle  can  scarcely  be  considered  Pagan.  Indeed, 
as  for  the  difference  of  religion,  we  should  bear  in  mind 
that,  just  at  the  time  we  are  about  to  consider,  the 
middle  of  the  fourth  century,  the  conduct  of  the 
Christians,  either  to  the  rest  of  the  world  or  to  one 
another,  was  very  far  from  evangelical.  Ammianus 
says  that  no  savage  beasts  could  equal  its  cruelty ; 
Ammianus  was  a  pagan  ;  but  St.  Gregory  himself  says 
it  was  like  Hell.^ 

I  have  expressed  elsewhere  my  own  general  answer 
to  this  puzzle.^  Not  only  in  early  Greek  times,  but 
throughout  the  whole  of  antiquity  the  possibility  of 
all  sorts  of  absurd  and  atrocious  things  lay  much  nearer, 
the  protective  forces  of  society  were  much  weaker,  the 
strain  on  personal  character,  the  need  for  real '  wisdom 
and  virtue  ',  was  much  greater  than  it  is  at  the  present 
day.  That  is  one  of  the  causes  that  make  antiquity  so 
interesting.  Of  course,  different  periods  of  antiquity 
varied  greatly,  both  in  the  conventional  standard 
demanded  and  in  the  spiritual  force  which  answered 
or  surpassed  the  demand.  But,  in  general,  the  strong 
governments  and  orderly  societies  of  modern  Europe 
have  made  it  infinitely  easier  for  men  of  no  particular 
virtue  to  live  a  decent  life,  infinitely  easier  also  for 

^  Conj.  ix.  9.  2  Gibbon,  chap,  xxi,  notes  161,  162. 

^  Rise  of  the  Greek  E-pic,  chap.  i. 


IV 


THE  LAST  PROTEST  165 


men  of  no  particular  reasoning  power  or  scientific  know- 
ledge to  have  a  more  or  less  scientific  or  sane  view  of 
the  world. 

That,  however,  does  not  carry  us  far  towards 
solving  the  main  problem  :  it  brings  us  no  nearer  to 
knowledge  of  anything  that  we  may  call  typically  a 
religious  creed  or  an  authorized  code  of  morals,  in  any 
age  from  Hesiod  to  M.  Aurelius. 

The  book  which  I  have  ventured  to  call  a  Creed  or 
Catechism  is  the  work  of  Sallustius  About  the  Gods  and 
the  Worlds  a  book,  I  should  say,  about  the  length  of 
the  Scotch  Shorter  Catechism.  It  is  printed  in  the 
third  volume  of  Mullach's  Fragmenta  Philosophorum  ; 
apart  from  that,  the  only  edition  generally  acces- 
sible— and  that  is  rare — is  a  duodecimo  published  by 
Allatius  in  1559.  Orelli's  brochure  of  1821  seems 
unprocurable. 

The  author  was  in  all  probabiHty  that  Sallustius  who 
is  known  to  us  as  a  close  friend  of  Julian  before  his 
accession,  and  a  backer  or  inspirer  of  the  emperor's 
efforts  to  restore  the  old  religion.  He  was  concerned 
in  an  educational  edition  of  Sophocles — the  seven 
selected  plays  now  extant  with  a  commentary.  He 
was  given  the  rank  of  prefect  in  562,  that  of  consul 
in  565.  One  must  remember,  of  course,  that  in  that 
rigorous  and  ascetic  court  high  rank  connoted  no  pomp 
or  luxury.  Julian  had  dismissed  the  thousand  hair- 
dressers, the  innumerable  cooks  and  eunuchs  of  his 
Christian  predecessor.  It  probably  brought  with  it 
only  an  increased  obhgation  to  live  on  pulse  and  to  do 

L  2 


i64  THE  LAST  PROTEST  iv 

without  such  pamperings  of  the  body  as  fine  clothes  or 
warmth  or  washing. 

JuHan's  fourth  oration,  a  prose  hymn  To  King 
Sun,  npos  ''RXlov  BacrtXea,  is  dedicated  to  Sallustius ; 
his  eighth  is  a  '  Consolation  to  Himself  upon  the 
Departure  of  Sallustius '.  (He  had  been  with  Julian  in 
the  wars  in  Gaul,  and  was  recalled  by  the  jealousy  of 
the  emperor  Constantius.)  It  is  a  touching  and  even 
a  noble  treatise.  The  nervous  self-distrust  which  was 
habitual  in  Julian  makes  him  write  always  with  a  certain 
affectation,  but  no  one  could  mistake  the  real  feeling 
of  loss  and  loneliness  that  runs  through  the  consolation. 
He  has  lost  his  '  comrade  in  the  ranks ',  and  now  is 
*  Odysseus  left  alone '.  So  he  writes,  quoting  the  Iliad ; 
Sallustius  has  been  carried  by  God  outside  the  spears 
and  arrows  :  '  which  malignant  men  were  always 
aiming  at  you,  or  rather  at  me,  trying  to  wound  me 
through  you,  and  believing  that  the  only  way  to  beat 
me  down  was  by  depriving  me  of  the  fellowship  of 
my  true  friend  and  fellow-soldier,  the  comrade  who 
never  flinched  from  sharing  my  dangers.' 

One  note  recurs  four  times ;  he  has  lost  the  one  man 
to  whom  he  could  talk  as  a  brother ;  the  man  of 
'  guileless  and  clean  free-speech,'  ^  who  was  honest  and 
unafraid  and  able  to  contradict  the  emperor  freely 
because  of  their  mutual  trust.  If  one  thinks  of  it, 
Julian,  for  all  his  gentleness,  must  have  been  an  alarming 
emperor  to  converse  with.  His  standard  of  conduct 
was  not  only  uncomfortably  high,  it  was  also  a  little 
unaccountable.    The  most  correct  and  blameless  court 

^   aSoXo<i  KOL  KaOapa  Trapp-qa-ta. 


IV  THE  LAST  PROTEST  165 

officials  must  often  have  suspected  that  their  master 
looked  upon  them  as  simply  wallowing  in  sin.  And  that 
feehng  does  not  promote  ease  or  truthfulness.  Julian 
compares  his  friendship  with  Sallustius  to  that  of  Scipio 
and  Laelius.  People  said  of  Scipio  that  he  only  carried 
out  what  LaeHus  told  him.  '  Is  that  true  of  me  ? ' 
JuHan  asks  himself.  '  Have  I  only  done  what  Sallustius 
told  me?'  His  answer  is  sincere  and  beautiful :  kolvol 
ra  (j)i\(jjp.  It  Httle  matters  who  suggested,  and  who 
agreed  to  the  suggestion  ;  his  thoughts  and  any  credit 
that  came  from  the  thoughts,  are  his  friend's  as  much 
as  his  own.  We  happen  to  hear  from  the  Christian 
Theodoret  (Hist.  iii.  11)  that  on  one  occasion  when 
Julian  was  nearly  goaded  into  persecution  of  the 
Christians,  it  was  Sallustius  who  recalled  him  to  their 
fixed  policy  of  toleration. 

Sallustius  then  may  be  taken  to  represent  in  the 
most  authoritative  way  the  Pagan  reaction  of  Julian's 
time,  in  its  final  struggle  against  Christianity. 

He  was  a  Neo-Platonist,  that  is  clear.  But  it  is  not 
as  a  professed  philosopher  that  he  writes.  It  is  only 
that  Neo-Platonism  had  permeated  the  whole  atmo- 
sphere of  the  age.  The  strife  of  the  philosophical 
sects  had  almost  ceased.  Just  as  Julian's  mysticism 
made  all  gods  and  almost  all  forms  of  worship  into 
one,  so  his  enthusiasm  for  Hellenism  revered,  nay, 
idolized,  almost  all  the  great  philosophers  of  the  past. 
They  were  all  trying  to  say  the  same  ineffable  thing  ; 
all  lifting  mankind  towards  the  knowledge  of  God. 
I  say  '  almost '  in  both  cases  :  for  the  Christians  are 
outside  the  pale  in  one  domain  and  the  Epicureans 


i66  THE  LAST  PROTEST  iv 

and  a  few  Cynics  in  the  other.  Both  had  committed 
the  cardinal  sin  ;  they  had  denied  the  gods.  They 
are  sometimes  lumped  together  as  Atheoi.  Uatheisme, 
voild  Veyinemi. 

This  may  surprise  us  at  first  sight,  but  the  explana- 
tion is  easy.  To  Julian  the  one  great  truth  that 
matters  is  the  presence  and  glory  of  the  gods.  No 
doubt,  they  are  all  ultimately  one ;  they  are  Si;m/xet9, 
'  forces,'  not  persons,  but  for  reasons  above  our  com- 
prehension they  are  manifest  only  under  conditions 
of  form,  time,  and  personality,  and  have  so  been 
revealed  and  worshipped  and  partly  known  by  the 
great  minds  of  the  past.  In  Julian's  mind  the  religious 
emotion  itself  becomes  the  thing  to  live  for.  Every 
object  that  has  been  touched  by  that  emotion  is  thereby 
glorified  and  made  sacred.  Every  shrine  where  men 
have  worshipped  in  truth  of  heart  is  thereby  a  house  of 
God.  The  worship  may  be  mixed  up  with  all  sorts  of 
folly,  all  sorts  of  unedifying  practice.  Such  things 
must  be  purged  away,  or,  still  better,  must  be  properly 
understood.  For  to  the  pure  all  things  are  pure  ;  and 
the  myths  that  shock  the  vulgar  are  noble  allegories  to 
the  wise  and  reverent.  Purge  religion  from  dross,  if 
you  like  ;  but  remember  that  you  do  so  at  your  peril. 
One  false  step,  one  self-confident  rejection  of  a  thing 
which  is  merely  too  high  for  you  to  grasp,  and  you  are 
darkening  the  Sun,  casting  God  out  of  the  world. 
And  that  was  just  what  the  Christians  deliberately 
did.  In  many  of  the  early  Christian  writings  denial 
is  a  much  greater  element  than  assertion.  The 
beautiful  Octavius  of  Minucius  Felix  (Bishop  in  515) 


IV  THE  LAST  PROTEST  167 

is  an  example.  Such  denial  was,  of  course,  to  our 
judgement,  eminently  needed,  and  rendered  a  great 
service  to  the  world.  But  to  Julian  it  seemed  impiety. 
In  other  Christian  writings  the  misrepresentation  of 
pagan  rites  and  beliefs  is  decidedly  foul-mouthed  and 
malicious.  Quite  apart  from  his  personal  wrongs  and 
his  contempt  for  the  character  of  Constantius,  Julian 
could  have  no  sympathy  for  men  who  overturned  altars 
and  heaped  blasphemy  on  old  deserted  shrines,  defilers 
of  every  sacred  object  that  was  not  protected  by 
popularity.  The  most  that  such  people  could  expect 
from  him  was  that  they  should  not  be  proscribed  bylaw. 

But  meantime  what  were  the  multitudes  of  the 
god-fearing  to  believe?  The  arm  of  the  state  was  not 
very  strong  or  effective.  Labour  as  he  might  to 
supply  good  teaching  to  all  provincial  towns,  Julian 
could  not  hope  to  educate  the  poor  and  ignorant  to 
understand  Plato  and  M.  Aurelius.  For  them,  he 
seems  to  say,  all  that  is  necessary  is  that  they  should 
be  pious  and  god-fearing  in  their  own  way.  But  for 
more  or  less  educated  people,  not  blankly  ignorant,  and 
yet  not  professed  students  of  philosophy,  there  might 
be  some  simple  and  authoritative  treatise  issued — 
a  sort  of  reasoned  creed,  to  lay  down  in  a  convincing 
manner  the  outHnes  of  the  old  Hellenic  religion,  before 
the  Christians  and  Atheists  should  have  swept  all  fear 
of  the  gods  from  off  the  earth. 

The  treatise  is  this  work  of  Sallustius. 

The  Christian  fathers  from  Minucius  Felix  onward 
have  shown  us  what  was  the  most  vulnerable  point  of 


1 68  THE  LAST  PROTEST  iv 

Paganism  :  the  traditional  mythology.  Sallustius  deals 
with  it  at  once.  The  Akrodtes,  or  pupil,  he  says  in 
Section  i,  needs  some  preliminary  training.  He  should 
have  been  well  brought  up,  should  not  be  incurably 
stupid,  and  should  not  have  been  familiarized  with 
foolish  fables.  Evidently  the  mythology  was  not  to 
be  taught  to  children.  He  enunciates  certain  postu- 
lates of  religious  thought,  viz.  that  God  is  always  good 
and  not  subject  to  passion  or  to  change,  and  then 
proceeds  straight  to  the  traditional  myths.  In  the 
first  place,  he  insists  that  they  are  what  he  calls 
'  divine  '.  That  is,  they  are  inspired  or  have  some 
touch  of  divine  truth  in  them.  This  is  proved  by 
the  fact  that  they  have  been  uttered,  and  sometimes 
invented,  by  the  most  inspired  poets  and  philosophers 
and  by  the  gods  themselves  in  oracles — a  very  charac- 
teristic argument. 

The  myths  are  all  expressions  of  God  and  of  the 
goodness  of  God  ;  but  they  follow  the  usual  method 
of  divine  revelation,  to  wit,  mystery  and  allegory. 
The  myths  state  clearly  the  one  tremendous  fact  that 
the  Gods  are  ;  that  is  what  Julian  cared  about  and 
the  Christians  denied  :  what  they  are  the  myths  reveal 
only  to  those  who  have  understanding.  '  The  world 
itself  is  a  great  myth,  in  which  bodies  and  inanimate 
things  are  visible,  souls  and  minds  invisible.' 

'  But,  admitting  all  this,  how  comes  it  that  the 
myths  are  so  often  absurd  and  even  immoral  ? '  For 
the  usual  purpose  of  mystery  and  allegory ;  in 
order  to  make  people  think.  The  soul  that  wishes 
to  know  God  must  make  its  own  effort ;   it  cannot 


IV  THE  LAST  PROTEST  169 

expect  simply  to  lie  still  and  be  told.  The  myths 
by  their  obvious  falsity  and  absurdity  on  the  surface 
stimulate  the  mind  capable  of  religion  to  probe  deeper. 

He  proceeds  to  give  instances,  and  chooses  at  once 
myths  that  had  been  for  generations  the  mock  of  the 
sceptic,  and  in  his  own  day  furnished  abundant  ammuni- 
tion for  the  artillery  of  Christian  polemic.  He  takes 
first  Hesiod's  story  of  Kronos  swallowing  his  children ; 
then  the  Judgement  of  Paris  ;  then  comes  a  long  and 
earnest  explanation  of  the  myth  of  Attis  and  the 
Mother  of  the  Gods.  It  is  on  the  face  of  it  a  story 
highly  discreditable  both  to  the  heart  and  the  head 
of  those  august  beings,  and  though  the  rites  themselves 
do  not  seem  to  have  been  in  any  way  improper,  the 
Christians  naturally  attacked  the  Pagans  and  Julian 
personally  for  countenancing  the  worship.  Sallustius's 
explanation  is  taken  directly  from  JuHan's  fifth  oration 
in  praise  of  the  Great  Mother,  and  reduces  the  myth 
and  the  ritual  to  an  expression  of  the  adventures  of 
the  Soul  seeking  God. 

So  much  for  the  whole  traditional  mythology.  It 
has  been  explained  completely  away  and  made  sub- 
servient to  philosophy  and  edification,  while  it  can 
still  be  used  as  a  great  well-spring  of  religious  emotion. 
For  the  explanations  given  by  Sallustius  and  JuHan  are 
never  rationalistic.  They  never  stimulate  a  spirit  of 
scepticism,  always  a  spirit  of  mysticism  and  reverence. 
And,  lest  by  chance  even  this  reverent  theorizing 
should  have  been  somehow  lacking  in  insight  or  true 
piety,  Sallustius  ends  with  the -prayer  :  'When  I  say 
these   things   concerning   the   myths,   may   the   gods 


I/O  THE  LAST  PROTEST  iv 

themselves  and  the  spirits  of  those  who  wrote  the 
myths  be  gracious  to  me.' 

He  now  leaves  mythology  and  turns  to  the  First 
Cause.  It  must  be  one,  and  it  must  be  present  in  all 
things.  Thus,  it  cannot  be  Life,  for,  if  it  were,  all  things 
would  be  alive.  By  a  Platonic  argument  in  which 
he  will  still  find  some  philosophers  to  follow  him,  he 
proves  that  everything  which  exists,  exists  because  of 
some  goodness  in  it ;  and  thus  arrives  at  the  conclusion 
that  the  First  Cause  is  to  ayaOov^  the  Good. 

The  gods  are  emanations  or  forces  issuing  from  the 
Good  ;  the  makers  of  this  world  are  secondary  gods ; 
above  them  are  the  makers  of  the  makers,  above  all 
the  One. 

Next  comes  a  proof  that  the  world  is  eternal — a  very 
important  point  of  doctrine  ;  next  that  the  soul  is 
immortal ;  next  a  definition  of  the  workings  of  Divine 
Providence,  Fate,  and  Fortune — a  fairly  skilful  piece 
of  dialectic  dealing  with  a  hopeless  difficulty.  Next 
come  Virtue  and  Vice,  and,  in  a  dead  and  perfunctory 
echo  of  Plato's  Republic,  an  enumeration  of  the  good 
and  bad  forms  of  human  society.  The  questions  which 
vibrated  with  life  in  free  Athens  had  become  meaning- 
less to  a  despot-governed  world.  Then  follows  more 
adventurous  matter. 

First  a  chapter  headed  :  '  Whence  Evil  things  come, 
and  that  there  is  no  Phusis  Kakou — Evil  is  not  a  real 
thing.'  '  It  is  perhaps  best,'  he  says, '  to  observe  at  once 
that,  since  the  gods  are  good  and  make  everything,  there 
is  no  positive  evil;  there  is  only  absence  of  good;  just  as 
there  is  no  positive  darkness,  only  absence  of  light.' 


IV  THE  LAST  PROTEST  171 

What  we  call  '  evils  '  arise  only  in  the  activities  of 
men,  and  even  here  no  one  ever  does  evil  for  the  sake  of 
evil.  '  One  who  indulges  in  some  pleasant  vice  thinks 
the  vice  bad  but  his  pleasure  good  ;  a  murderer  thinks 
the  murder  bad,  but  the  money  he  will  get  by  it, 
good  ;  one  v/ho  injures  an  enemy  thinks  the  injury 
bad,  but  the  being  quits  with  his  enemy,  good  ' ;  and 
so  on.  The  evil  acts  are  all  done  for  the  sake  of  some 
good,  but  human  souls,  being  very  far  removed  from 
the  original  flawless  divine  nature,  make  mistakes  or 
sins.  One  of  the  great  objects  of  the  world,  he  goes 
on  to  explain,  of  gods,  men,  and  spirits,  of  religious 
institutions  and  human  laws  alike,  is  to  keep  the  souls 
from  these  errors  and  to  purge  them  again  when  they 
have  fallen. 

Next  comes  a  speculative  difficulty.  Sallustius  has 
called  the  world  '  eternal  in  the  fullest  sense ' — that  is, 
it  always  has  been  and  always  will  be.  And  yet  it  is 
'  made '  by  the  gods.  How  are  these  statements 
compatible?  If  it  was  made,  there  must  have  been 
a  time  before  it  was  made.  The  answer  is  ingenious. 
It  is  not  made  by  handicraft  as  a  table  is ;  it  is  not 
begotten  as  a  son  by  a  father.  It  is  the  result  of 
a  quality  of  God  just  as  light  is  the  result  of  a  quality 
of  the  sun.  The  sun  causes  light,  but  the  light  is 
there  as  soon  as  the  Sun  is  there.  The  world  is 
simply  the  other  side,  as  it  were,  of  the  goodness  of 
God,  and  has  existed  as  long  as  that  goodness  has 
existed. 

Next  come  some  simpler  questions  about  man's 
relation  to  the  gods.     In  what  sense  can  we  say  that 


172  THE  LAST  PROTEST  iv 

the  gods  are  angry  with  the  wicked  or  are  appeased  by 
repentance  ?  Sallustius  is  quite  firm.  The  gods  can- 
not ever  be  glad — for  that  which  is  glad  is  also  sorry  ; 
cannot  be  angry — for  anger  is  a  passion  ;  and  obviously 
they  cannot  be  appeased  by  gifts  or  prayers.  Even 
men,  if  they  are  honest,  require  higher  motives  than 
that.  God  is  unchangeable,  always  good,  always  doing 
good.  If  we  are  good,  we  are  nearer  to  the  gods,  and 
we  feel  it ;  if  we  are  evil,  v/e  are  separated  further  from 
them.  It  is  not  they  that  are  angry,  it  is  our  sins  that 
hide  them  from  us  and  prevent  the  goodness  of  God 
from  shining  into  us.  If  we  repent,  again,  we  do  not 
make  any  change  in  God  ;  we  only,  by  the  conversion 
of  our  soul  towards  the  divine,  heal  our  own  badness 
and  enjoy  again  the  goodness  of  the  gods.  To  say  that 
the  gods  turn  away  from  the  wicked,  would  be  like 
saying  that  the  sun  turns  away  from  a  blind  man. 

Why  then  do  we  make  offerings  and  sacrifices  to 
the  gods,  when  the  gods  need  nothing  and  can  have 
nothing  added  to  them?  We  do  so  in  order  to  have 
more  communion  with  the  gods.  The  whole  temple 
service,  in  fact,  is  an  elaborate  allegory,  a  represen- 
tation of  the  divine  government  of  the  world. 

The  custom  of  sacrificing  animals  had  died  out  some 
time  before  this.  The  Jews  of  the  Dispersion  had 
given  it  up  long  since  because  the  Law  forbade  any 
such  sacrifice  outside  the  Temple.^  When  Jerusalem 
was  destroyed  Jewish  sacrifice  ceased  altogether.  The 
Christians  seem  from  the  beginning  to  have  generally 
followed  the  Jewish  practice.  But  sacrifice  was  in 
^  S.  Reinach,  Orpheus,  p.  273  (Engl,  trans.,  p.  185). 


IV  THE  LAST  PROTEST  175 

itself  not  likely  to  continue  in  a  society  of  large  towns. 
It  meant  turning  your  temples  into  very  ill-conducted 
slaughter-houses,  and  was  also  associated  with  a  great 
deal  of  muddled  and  indiscriminate  charity.^  One 
might  have  hoped  that  men  so  high-minded  and 
spiritual  as  Julian  and  Sallustius  would  have  considered 
this  practice  unnecessary  or  even  have  reformed  it 
away.  But  no.  It  was  part  of  the  genuine  Hellenic 
tradition  ;  and  no  jot  or  tittle  of  that  tradition  should, 
if  they  could  help  it,  be  allowed  to  die.  Sacrifice  is 
desirable,  argues  Sallustius,  because  it  is  a  gift  of  life. 
God  has  given  us  life,  as  He  has  given  us  all  else.  We 
must,  therefore,  pay  to  Him  some  emblematic  tithe  of 
life.  Again,  prayers  in  themselves  are  merely  words ; 
but  with  sacrifice  they  are  words  plus  life.  Living 
Words.  Lastly,  we  are  Life  of  a  sort,  and  God  is  Life 
of  an  infinitely  higher  sort.  To  approach  Him  we  need 
always  a  medium  or  a  mediator  ;  the  medium  between 
life  and  Hfe  must  needs  be  Hfe.  We  find  that  fife  in  the 
sacrificed  animal.^ 

The  argument  shows  what  ingenuity  these  religious 
men  had  at  their  command,  and  what  trouble  they 
would  take  to  avoid  having  to  face  a  fact  and  reform 
a  bad  system. 

1  See  Ammianus,  xxii.  12,  on  the  bad  effect  of  Julian's  sacrifices. 
Sacrifice  was  finally  forbidden  by  the  emperor  Theodosius  in  391. 

2  Sallustius's  view  of  sacrifice  is  curiously  like  the  illuminating 
theory  of  MM.  Hubert  and  Mauss,  in  which  they  define  primitive 
sacrifice  as  a  medium,  a  bridge  or  lightning-conductor,  between  the 
profane  and  the  sacred.  *  Essai  sur  la  Nature  et  la  Fonction  du 
Sacrifice'  {Annee  Sociologique,  ii.  1897-8),  since  republished  in  the 
Melanges  d'Histoire  des  Religions,  1909. 


174  THE  LAST  PROTEST  iv 

There  follows  a  long  and  rather  difficult  argument 
to  show  that  the  world  is,  in  itself,  eternal.  The 
former  discussion  on  this  point  had  only  shown  that 
the  gods  would  not  destroy  it.  This  shows  that  its 
own  nature  is  indestructible.  The  arguments  are 
very  inconclusive,  though  clever,  and  one  wonders 
why  the  author  is  at  so  much  pains.  Indeed,  he  is  so 
earnest  that  at  the  end  of  the  chapter  he  finds  it 
necessary  to  apologize  to  the  Kosmos  in  case  his 
language  should  have  been  indiscreet.  The  reason, 
I  think,  is  that  the  Christians  were  still,  as  in  apostolic 
times,  pinning  their  faith  to  the  approaching  end  of 
the  world  by  fire.-^  They  announced  the  end  of  the 
world  as  near,  and  they  rejoiced  in  the  prospect  of  its 
destruction.  History  has  shown  more  than  once  what 
terrible  results  can  be  produced  by  such  beliefs  as 
these  in  the  minds  of  excitable  and  suffering  popula- 
tions, especially  those  of  eastern  blood.  It  was  widely 
believed  that  Christian  fanatics  had  from  time  to  time 
actually  tried  to  light  fires  which  should  consume  the 
accursed  world  and  thus  hasten  the  coming  of  the 
kingdom  which  should  bring  such  incalculable  rewards 
to  their  own  organization  and  plunge  the  rest  of  man- 
kind in  everlasting  torment.  To  any  respectable  Pagan 
such  action  was  an  insane  crime  made  worse  by  a 

^  Cf.  Minucius  Felix,  Octavius,  p.  96,  Ouzel  (chap.  II,  Boenig). 
'  Quid  quod  toti  orbi  et  ipsi  mundo  cum  sideribus  suis  minantur 
incendium,  ruinam  moliuntur  ?  '  The  doctrine  in  their  mouths 
became  a  very  different  thing  from  the  Stoic  theory  of  the  periodic 
re-absorption  of  the  universe  in  the  Divine  Element.  Ibid.,  pp.  322  ff. 
(34  Boenig). 


IV  THE  LAST  PROTEST  175 

diabolical  motive.  The  destruction  of  the  world, 
therefore,  seems  to  have  become  a  subject  of  profound 
irritation,  if  not  actually  of  terror.  At  any  rate  the 
doctrine  lay  at  the  very  heart  of  the  perniciosa  super- 
stition and  Sallustius  uses  his  best  dialectic  against  it. 

The  title  of  Chapter  XVIII  has  a  somewhat  pathetic 
ring  :  '  Why  are  Atheiai  ' — Atheisms  or  rejections  of 
God — '  permitted,  and  that  God  is  not  injured  there- 
by.' (^eo<;  ov  ^XctTrrerat.  'If  over  certain  parts  of  the 
world  there  have  occurred  (and  will  occur  more  here- 
after) rejections  of  the  gods,  a  wise  man  need  not  be 
disturbed  at  that.'  We  have  always  knov/n  that  the 
human  soul  was  prone  to  error.  God's  providence  is 
there  ;  but  we  cannot  expect  all  men  at  all  times  and 
places  to  enjoy  it  equally.  In  the  human  body  it  is 
only  the  eye  that  sees  the  light,  the  rest  of  the  body  is 
ignorant  of  the  light.  So  are  many  parts  of  the  earth 
ignorant  of  God. 

Very  likely,  also,  this  rejection  of  God  is  a  punish- 
ment. Persons  who  in  a  previous  life  have  known  the 
gods  but  disregarded  them,  are  perhaps  now  born,  as  it 
were,  blind,  unable  to  see  God  ;  persons  who  have 
committed  the  blasphemy  of  worshipping  their  own 
kings  as  gods  may  perhaps  now  be  cast  out  from  the 
knowledge  of  God. 

Philosophy  had  always  rejected  the  Man-God, 
especially  in  the  form  of  King-worship  ;  but  opposition 
to  Christianity  no  doubt  intensifies  the  protest. 

The  last  chapter  is  very  short.  '  Souls  that  have 
lived  in  virtue,  being  otherwise  blessed  and  especially 
separated  from  their  irrational  part  and  purged  of  all 


176  THE  LAST  PROTEST  iv 

body,  are  joined  with  the  gods  and  sway  the  whole 
world  together  with  them.'  So  far  triumphant  faith  : 
then  the  after-thought  of  the  brave  man  who  means 
to  live  his  best  life  even  if  faith  fail  him.  '  But  even 
if  none  of  these  rewards  came  to  them,  still  Virtue 
itself  and  the  Joy  and  Glory  of  Virtue,  and  the  Life 
that  is  subject  to  no  grief  and  no  master,  would 
be  enough  to  make  blessed  those  who  have  set  them- 
selves to  live  in  Virtue  and  have  succeeded.' 

There  the  book  ends.  It  ends  upon  that  well-worn 
paradox  which,  from  the  second  book  of  the  Republic 
onwards,  seems  to  have  brought  so  much  comfort  to 
the  nobler  spirits  of  the  ancient  world.  Strange  how 
we  moderns  cannot  rise  to  it!  We  seem  simply  to  lack 
the  intensity  of  moral  enthusiasm.  When  we  speak  of 
martyrs  being  happy  on  the  rack  ;  in  the  first  place  we 
rarely  believe  it,  and  in  the  second  we  are  usually 
supposing  that  the  rack  will  soon  be  over  and  that  harps 
and  golden  crowns  will  presently  follow.  The  ancient 
moralist  believed  that  the  good  man  was  happy  then 
and  there,  because  the  joy,  being  in  his  soul,  was  not 
affected  by  the  torture  of  his  body.^ 

Not  being  able  fully  to  feel  this  conviction,  we  natu- 
rally incline  to  think  it  affected  or  unreal.  But,  taking 
the  conditions  of  the  ancient  world  into  account,  we 
must  admit  that  the  men  who  uttered  this  behef  at 
least  understood  better  than  most  of  us  what  suffering 
was.     Many   of   them   were   slaves,    many   had    been 

^  Even  Epicurus  himself  held  kAv  arpe^XwOi]  6  crocfios,  chat 
avTov  €v8aiixova.    Diog.  La.  x.  1 1 8. 


IV  THE  LAST  PROTEST  177 

captives  of  war.  They  knew  what  they  were  talking 
about.  I  think,  on  a  careful  study  of  M.  Aurelius, 
Epictetus,  and  some  of  these  Neo-Platonic  philosophers, 
that  we  shall  be  forced  to  realize  that  these  men  could 
rise  to  much  the  same  heights  of  religious  heroism  as 
the  Catholic  saints  of  the  Middle  Age,  and  that  they 
often  did  so — if  I  may  use  such  a  phrase — on  a  purer 
and  thinner  diet  of  sensuous  emotion,  with  less  wallow- 
ing in  the  dust  and  less  delirium. 

Be  that  as  it  may,  we  have  now  seen  in  outline  the 
kind  of  religion  which  ancient  Paganism  had  become 
at  the  time  of  its  final  reaction  against  Christianity. 
It  is  a  more  or  less  intelligible  whole,  and  succeeds 
better  than  most  religions  in  combining  two  great 
appeals.  It  appeals  to  the  philosopher  and  the 
thoughtful  man  as  a  fairly  complete  and  rational 
system  of  thought,  which  speculative  and  enlightened 
minds  in  any  age  might  believe  without  disgrace. 
I  do  not  mean  that  it  is  probably  true ;  to  me  all 
these  overpowering  optimisms  which,  by  means  of  a 
few  untested  a  priori  postulates,  affect  triumphantly 
to  disprove  the  most  obvious  facts  of  life,  seem  very 
soon  to  become  meaningless.  I  conceive  it  to  be  no 
comfort  at  all,  to  a  man  suffering  agonies  of  frost-bite, 
to  be  told  by  science  that  cold  is  merely  negative  and 
does  not  exist.  So  far  as  the  statement  is  true  it  is 
irrelevant ;  so  far  as  it  pretends  to  be  relevant  it  is 
false.  I  only  mean  that  a  system  like  that  of  Sallustius 
is,  judged  by  any  standard,  high,  civilized,  and 
enlightened. 

At   the   same   time   this    religion    appeals    to    the 

p.  p.  648  M 


178  THE  LAST  PROTEST  iv 

ignorant  and  the  humble-minded.  It  takes  from  the 
pious  villager  no  single  object  of  worship  that  has 
turned  his  thoughts  heavenwards.  It  may  explain  and 
purge  ;  it  never  condemns  or  ridicules.  In  its  own 
eyes  that  was  its  great  glory,  in  the  eyes  of  history 
perhaps  its  most  fatal  weakness.  Christianity,  apart 
from  its  positive  doctrines,  had  inherited  from  Judaism 
the  courage  of  its  disbeliefs. 

To  compare  this  Paganism  in  detail  with  its  great 
rival  would  be,  even  if  I  possessed  the  necessary 
learning,  a  laborious  and  unsatisfactory  task.  But  if 
a  student  with  very  imperfect  knowledge  may  venture 
a  personal  opinion  on  this  obscure  subject,  it  seems  to 
me  that  we  often  look  at  such  problems  from  a  wrong 
angle.  Harnack  somewhere,  in  discussing  the  com- 
parative success  or  failure  of  various  early  Christian 
sects,  makes  the  illuminating  remark  that  the  main 
determining  cause  in  each  case  was  not  their  compara- 
tive reasonableness  of  doctrine  or  skill  in  controversy 
— for  they  practically  never  converted  one  another — 
but  simply  the  comparative  increase  or  decrease  of  the 
birth-rate  in  the  respective  populations.  On  somewhat 
similar  lines  it  always  appears  to  me  that,  historically 
speaking,  the  character  of  Christianity  in  these  early 
centuries  is  to  be  sought  not  so  much  in  the  doctrines 
which  it  professed,  nearly  all  of  which  had  their  roots 
and  their  close  parallels  in  older  Hellenistic  or  Hebrew 
thought,  but  in  the  organization  on  which  it  rested. 
For  my  own  part,  when  I  try  to  understand  Chris- 
tianity as  a  mass  of  doctrines.  Gnostic,  Trinitarian, 
Monophysite,  Arian  and  the  rest,  I  get  no  further. 


IV  THE  LAST  PROTEST  179 

When  I  try  to  realize  it  as  a  sort  of  semi-secret  society 
for  mutual  help  with  a  mystical  religious  basis,  resting 
first  on  the  proletariates  of  Antioch  and  the  great 
commercial  and  manufacturing  towns  of  the  Levant, 
then  spreading  by  instinctive  sympathy  to  similar  classes 
in  Rome  and  the  West,  and  rising  in  influence,  like 
certain  other  mystical  cults,  by  the  special  appeal  it 
made  to  women,  the  various  historical  puzzles  begin 
to  fall  into  place.  Among  other  things  this  explains 
the  strange  subterranean  power  by  which  the  emperor 
Diocletian  was  baflfled,  and  to  which  the  pretender 
Constantine  had  to  capitulate ;  it  explains  its 
humanity,  its  intense  feeling  of  brotherhood  within 
its  own  bounds,  its  incessant  care  for  the  poor,  and 
also  its  comparative  indifference  to  the  virtues  which 
are  specially  incumbent  on  a  governing  class,  such  as 
statesmanship,  moderation,  truthfulness,  active  courage, 
learning,  culture,  and  public  spirit.  Of  course  such 
indifference  was  only  comparative.  After  the  time  of 
Constantine  the  governing  classes  come  into  the  fold, 
bringing  with  them  their  normal  qualities,  and  there- 
after it  is  Paganism,  not  Christianity,  that  must  uphold 
the  flag  of  a  desperate  fidelity  in  the  face  of  a  hostile 
world — a  task  to  which,  naturally  enough,  Paganism  was 
not  equal.  But  I  never  wished  to  pit  the  two  systems 
against  one  another.  The  battle  is  over,  and  it  is 
poor  work  to  jeer  at  the  wounded  and  the  dead.  If 
we  read  the  literature  of  the  time,  especially  some 
records  of  the  martyrs  under  Diocletian,  we  shall  at 
first  perhaps  imagine  that,  apart  from  some  startling 
exceptions,  the  conquered  party  were  all  vicious  and 

M  2 


i8o  THE  LAST  PROTEST  iv 

hateful,  the  conquerors  all  wise  and  saintly.  Then, 
looking  a  little  deeper,  we  shall  see  that  this  great 
controversy  does  not  stand  altogether  by  itself.  As 
in  other  wars,  each  side  had  its  wise  men  and  its 
foolish,  its  good  men  and  its  evil.  Like  other  con- 
querors these  conquerors  were  often  treacherous  and 
brutal ;  like  other  vanquished  these  vanquished  have 
been  tried  at  the  bar  of  history  without  benefit  of 
counsel,  have  been  condemned  in  their  absence  and 
died  with  their  lips  sealed.  The  polemic  literature  of 
Christianity  is  loud  and  triumphant,  the  books  of  the 
Pagans  have  been  destroyed. 

Only  an  ignorant  man  will  pronounce  a  violent  or 
bitter  judgement  here.  The  minds  that  are  now 
tender,  timid,  and  reverent  in  their  orthodoxy  would 
probably  in  the  third  or  fourth  century  have  sided 
with  the  old  gods ;  those  of  more  daring  and  puritan 
temper  with  the  Christians.  The  historian  will  only 
try  to  have  sympathy  and  understanding  for  both. 
They  are  all  dead  now,  Diocletian  and  Diognetus, 
Cyril  and  Hypatia,  Julian  and  Basil,  Arius  and  Atha- 
nasius  :  every  party  has  yielded  up  its  persecutors  and 
its  martyrs,  its  hates  and  slanders  and  aspirations  and 
heroisms,  to  the  arms  of  that  great  Silence  whose 
secrets  they  all  claimed  so  loudly  to  have  read.  Even 
the  dogmas  for  which  they  fought  might  seem  to  be 
dead  too.  For  if  Julian  and  Sallustius,  Gregory  and 
John  Chrysostom,  were  to  rise  again  and  see  the  world 
as  it  now  is,  they  would  probably  feel  their  personal 
differences  melt  away  in  comparison  with  the  vast 
difference  between  their  world  and  this.     They  fought 


IV  THE  LAST  PROTEST  i8i 

to  the  death  about  this  credo  and  that,  but  the  same 
spirit  was  in  all  of  them.  In  the  words  of  one  who 
speaks  with  greater  knowledge  than  mine,  *  the  most 
inward  man  in  these  four  contemporaries  is  the  same. 
It  is  the  Spirit  of  the  Fourth  Century.'  ^ 

'  Dieselbe  Seelenstimmung,  derselbe  Spiritualismus;' 
also  the  same  passionate  asceticism.  All  through 
antiquity  the  fight  against  luxury  was  a  fiercer  and 
stronger  fight  than  comes  into  our  modern  experience. 
There  was  not  more  objective  luxury  in  any  period  of 
ancient  history  than  there  is  now  ;  there  was  not  any- 
thing like  so  much.  But  there  does  seem  to  have  been 
more  subjective  abandonment  to  physical  pleasure  and 
concomitantly  a  stronger  protest  against  it.  From 
some  time  before  the  Christian  era  it  seems  as  if  the 
subconscious  instinct  of  humanity  was  slowly  rousing 
itself  for  a  great  revolt  against  the  long  intolerable 
tyranny  of  the  senses  over  the  soul,  and  by  the  fourth 
century  the  revolt  threatened  to  become  all-absorbing. 
The  Emperor  Julian  was  probably  as  proud  of  his 
fireless  cell  and  the  crowding  lice  in  his  beard  and 
cassock  as  an  average  Egyptian  monk.  The  ascetic 
movement  grew,  as  we  all  know,  to  be  measureless  and 
insane.  It  seemed  to  be  almost  another  form  of  lust, 
and  to  have  the  same  affinities  with  cruelty.  But  it 
has  probably  rendered  priceless  help  to  us  who  come 
afterwards.  The  insane  ages  have  often  done  service 
for  the  sane,  the  harsh  and  suffering  ages  for  the  gentle 
and  well-to-do. 

1  Geffcken  in  the  Neue  Jahrhiicher,  xxi.  162  f. 


1 82  THE  LAST  PROTEST  iv 

Sophrosyne,  however  we  try  to  translate  it,  temperance, 
gentleness,  the  spirit  that  in  any  trouble  thinks  and  is 
patient,  that  saves  and  not  destroys,  is  the  right  spirit. 
And  it  is  to  be  feared  that  none  of  these  fourth-century 
leaders,  neither  the  fierce  bishops  with  their  homilies 
on  Charity,  nor  Julian  and  Sallustius  with  their  worship 
of  Hellenism,  came  very  near  to  that  classic  ideal.  To 
bring  back  that  note  of  Sophrosyne  I  will  venture, 
before  proceeding  to  the  fourth-century  Pagan  creed, 
to  give  some  sentences  from  an  earlier  Pagan  prayer.  It 
is  cited  by  Stobaeus  from  a  certain  Eusebius,  a  late 
Ionic  Platonist  of  whom  almost  nothing  is  known,  not 
even  the  date  at  which  he  lived.-^  But  the  voice  sounds 
like  that  of  a  stronger  and  more  sober  age. 

'  May  I  be  no  man's  enemy,'  it  begins,  '  and  may 
I  be  the  friend  of  that  which  is  eternal  and  abides. 
May  I  never  quarrel  with  those  nearest  to  me  ;  and 
if  I  do,  may  I  be  reconciled  quickly.  May  I  never 
devise  evil  against  any  man  ;  if  any  devise  evil  against 
me,  may  I  escape  uninjured  and  without  the  need  of 
hurting  him.  May  I  love,  seek,  and  attain  only  that 
which  is  good.  May  I  wish  for  all  men's  happiness 
and  envy  none.  May  I  never  rejoice  in  the  ill-fortune 
of  one  who  has  wronged  me.  .  .  .  When  I  have  done  or 
said  what  is  wrong,  may  I  never  wait  for  the  rebuke 
of  others,  but  always  rebuke  myself  until  I  make 
amends.  .  .  .  May  I  win  no  victory  that  harms  either 
me  or  my  opponent.  .  .  .  May  I  reconcile  friends  who 
are  wroth  with  one  another.  May  I,  to  the  extent 
of  my  power,  give  all  needful  help  to  my  friends  and 
to  all  who  are  in  want.  May  I  never  fail  a  friend  in 
danger.     When  visiting  those  in  grief  may  I  be  able  by 

^  MuUach,  Fragmenta  Philosophorum,  iii.  7,  from  Stob.  Flor,  i.  85, 


IV 


THE  LAST  PROTEST  185 


gentle  and  healing  words  to  soften  their  pain.  .  .  . 
May  I  respect  myself.  .  .  ,  May  I  always  keep  tame  that 
which  rages  within  me.  .  .  .  May  I  accustom  myself 
to  be  gentle,  and  never  be  angry  with  people  because 
of  circumstances.  May  I  never  discuss  who  is  wicked 
and  what  wicked  things  he  has  done,  but  know  good 
men  and  follow  in  their  footsteps.' 

There  is  more  of  it.  How  unpretending  it  is  and 
yet  how  searching  !  And  in  the  whole  there  is  no 
petition  for  any  material  blessing,  and — most  striking 
of  all — it  is  addressed  to  no  personal  god.  It  is  pure 
prayer.  Of  course  to  some  it  will  feel  thin  and  cold. 
Most  men  demand  of  their  religion  more  outward  and 
personal  help,  more  physical  ecstasy,  a  more  heady 
atmosphere  of  illusion.  No  one  man's  attitude 
towards  the  Uncharted  can  be  quite  the  same  as  his 
neighbour's.  In  part  instinctively,  in  part  super- 
ficially and  self-consciously,  each  generation  of  man- 
kind reacts  against  the  last.  The  grown  man  turns 
from  the  lights  that  were  thrust  upon  his  eyes  in 
childhood.  The  son  shrugs  his  shoulders  at  the 
watchwords  that  thrilled  his  father,  and  with  varying 
degrees  of  sensitiveness  or  dullness,  of  fuller  or  more 
fragmentary  experience,  writes  out  for  himself  the 
manuscript  of  his  creed.  Yet,  even  for  the  wildest  or 
bravest  rebel,  that  manuscript  is  only  a  palimpsest. 
On  the  surface  all  is  new  writing,  clean  and  self- 
assertive.  Underneath,  dim  but  indelible  in  the  very 
fibres  of  the  parchment,  lie  the  characters  of  many 
ancient  aspirations  and  raptures  and  battles  which  his 
conscious    mind    has    rejected    or    utterly    forgotten. 


1 84  THE  LAST  PROTEST  iv 

And  forgotten  things,  if  there  be  real  life  in  them, 
will  sometimes  return  out  of  the  dust,  vivid  to  help 
still  in  the  forward  groping  of  humanity.  A  religious 
system  like  that  of  Eusebius  or  Marcus,  or  even  Sallus- 
tius,  was  not  built  up  without  much  noble  life  and 
strenuous  thought  and  a  steady  passion  for  the  know- 
ledge of  God.  Things  of  that  make  do  not,  as  a  rule, 
die  for  ever. 


SALLUSTIUS 
ON  THE  GODS  AND  THE  WORLD' 


SALLUSTIUS 
^ON  THE  GODS  AND  THE  WORLD  ^  ^ 

I.  What  the  Disciple  should  he  ;  and  concerning 
Common  Conceptions, 

Those  who  wish  to  hear  about  the  Gods  should  have 
been  well  guided  from  childhood,  and  not  habituated 
to  foolish  beliefs.  They  should  also  be  in  disposition 
good  and  sensible,  that  they  may  properly  attend  to 
the  teaching. 

They  ought  also  to  know  the  Common  Conceptions. 
Common  Conceptions  are  those  to  which  all  men  agree 
as  soon  as  they  are  asked :  for  instance  that  all  God 
is  good,  free  from  passion,  free  from  change.  For 
whatever  suffers  change  does  so  for  the  worse  or  the 
better:  if  for  the  worse,  it  is  made  bad,  if  for  the 
better,  it  must  have  been  bad  at  first. 

1  I  translate  koct/xo?  generally  as  '  World  ',  sometimes  as  *  Cosmos '. 
It  always  has  the  connotation  of  '  divine  order  ' ;  yj/v^ri  always  '  Soul ', 
to  keep  it  distinct  from  ^wtJ,  '  physical  Hfe  ',  though  often '  Life  '  would 
be  a  more  natural  English  equivalent ;  ifxxf/vxovv  '  to  animate '  ; 
ov(Tia  sometimes  *  essence  ',  sometimes  '  being  '  (never  '  substance  ' 
or  '  nature ') ;  <^uVts  '  nature ' ;  crw^a  sometimes  *  body ',  sometimes 
*  matter '. 


1 88  SALLUSTIUS 

II.  That  God  is  unchanging^  un-hegotten,  eternal^ 
incorporeal^  and  not  in  space. 

Let  the  disciple  be  thus.  Let  the  teachings  be  of 
the  following  sort.  The  essences  of  the  Gods  never 
came  into  existence  (for  that  which  always  is  never 
comes  into  existence ;  and  that  exists  for  ever  which 
possesses  primary  force  and  by  nature  suffers  nothing)  : 
neither  do  they  consist  of  bodies ;  for  even  in  bodies 
the  powers  are  incorporeal.  Neither  are  they  con- 
tained by  space  ;  for  that  is  a  property  of  bodies. 
Neither  are  they  separate  from  the  First  Cause  nor 
from  one  another,  just  as  thoughts  are  not  separate  from 
mind  nor  acts  of  knowledge  from  the  soul. 


III.  Concerning  myths;  that  they  are  divine  and  why. 

We  may  well  inquire,  then,  why  the  ancients  forsook 
these  doctrines  and  made  use  of  myths.  There  is  this 
first  benefit  from  myths,  that  we  have  to  search  and  do 
not  have  our  minds  idle. 

That  the  myths  are  divine  can  be  seen  from  those 
who  have  used  them.  Myths  have  been  used  by 
inspired  poets,  by  the  best  of  philosophers,  by  those 
who  established  the  mysteries,  and  by  the  Gods 
themselves  in  oracles.  But  why  the  myths  are  divine 
it  is  the  duty  of  Philosophy  to  inquire.  Since  all 
existing  things  rejoice  in  that  which  is  like  them  and 
reject  that  which  is  unlike,  the  stories  about  the  Gods 
ought  to  be  like  the  Gods,  so  that  they  may  both  be 


*0N  THE  GODS  AND  THE  WORLD'    189 

worthy  of  the  divine  essence  and  make  the  Gods  well 
disposed  to  those  who  speak  of  them  :  which  could  only 
be  done  by  means  of  myths. 

Now  the  myths  represent  the  Gods  themselves  and 
the  goodness  of  the  Gods — subject  always  to  the 
distinction  of  the  speakable  and  the  unspeakable,  the 
revealed  and  the  unrevealed,  that  which  is  clear  and 
that  which  is  hidden  :  since,  just  as  the  Gods  have 
made  the  goods  of  sense  common  to  all,  but  those  of 
intellect  only  to  the  wise,  so  the  myths  state  the  exis- 
tence of  Gods  to  all,  but  who  and  what  they  are  only 
to  those  who  can  understand. 

They  also  represent  the  activities  of  the  Gods.  For 
one  may  call  the  World  a  Myth,  in  which  bodies 
and  things  are  visible,  but  souls  and  minds  hidden. 
Besides,  to  wish  to  teach  the  whole  truth  about  the 
Gods  to  all  produces  contempt  in  the  foolish,  because 
they  cannot  understand,  and  lack  of  zeal  in  the  good  ; 
whereas  to  conceal  the  truth  by  myths  prevents  the 
contempt  of  the  foolish,  and  compels  the  good  to 
practise  philosophy. 

But  why  have  they  put  in  the  myths  stories  of 
adultery,  robbery,  father-binding,  and  all  the  other 
absurdity  ?  Is  not  that  perhaps  a  thing  worthy  of 
admiration,  done  so  that  by  means  of  the  visible 
absurdity  the  Soul  may  immediately  feel  that  the 
words  are  veils  and  believe  the  truth  to  be  a 
mystery  ? 


I90  SALLUSTIUS 


IV.  That  the  species  of  Myth  are  jive^  with 
examples  of  each. 

Of  myths  some  are  theological,  some  physical,  some 
psychic,  and  again  some  material,  and  some  mixed  from 
these  last  two.  The  theological  are  those  myths  which 
use  no  bodily  form  but  contemplate  the  very  essences 
of  the  Gods:  e.g.  Kronos  swallowing  his  children. 
Since  God  is  intellectual,  and  all  intellect  returns 
into  itself,  this  myth  expresses  in  allegory  the  essence 
of  God. 

Myths  may  be  regarded  physically  when  they  express 
the  activities  of  the  Gods  in  the  world  :  e.g.  people 
before  now  have  regarded  Kronos  as  Time,  and  calling 
the  divisions  of  Time  his  sons  say  that  the  sons  are 
swallowed  by  the  father. 

The  psychic  way  is  to  regard  the  activities  of  the 
Soul  itself  :  the  Soul's  acts  of  thought,  though  they 
pass  on  to  other  objects,  nevertheless  remain  inside 
their  begetters. 

The  material  and  last  is  that  which  the  Egyptians 
have  mostly  used,  owing  to  their  ignorance,  believing 
material  objects  actually  to  be  Gods,  and  so  calling 
them  :  e.g.  they  call  the  Earth  Isis,  moisture  Osiris, 
heat  Typhon,  or  again,  water  Kronos,  the  fruits  of  the 
earth  Adonis,  and  wine  Dionysus. 

To  say  that  these  objects  are  sacred  to  the  Gods, 
like  various  herbs  and  stones  and  animals,  is  possible  to 
sensible  men,  but  to  say  that  they  are  gods  is  the 
notion  of  madmen — except,  perhaps,  in  the  sense  in 


^  ON  THE  GODS  AND  THE  WORLD '  191 

which  both  the  orb  of  the  sun  and  the  ray  which  comes 
from  the  orb  are  colloquially  called  '  the  Sun  '.^ 

The  mixed  kind  of  myth  may  be  seen  in  many 
instances  :  for  example  they  say  that  in  a  banquet  of 
the  Gods  Discord  threw  down  a  golden  apple  ;  the 
goddesses  contended  for  it,  and  were  sent  by  Zeus  to 
Paris  to  be  judged  ;  Paris  saw  Aphrodite  to  be  beautiful 
and  gave  her  the  apple.  Here  the  banquet  signifies 
the  hyper-cosmic  powers  of  the  Gods ;  that  is  why  they 
are  all  together.  The  golden  apple  is  the  world,  which, 
being  formed  out  of  opposites,  is  naturally  said  to 
be  '  thrown  by  Discord  '.  The  different  Gods  bestow 
different  gifts  upon  the  world  and  are  thus  said  to 
'  contend  for  the  apple  '.  And  the  soul  which  lives 
according  to  sense — for  that  is  what  Paris  is — not  seeing 
the  other  powers  in  the  world  but  only  beauty,  declares 
that  the  apple  belongs  to  Aphrodite. 

Theological  myths  suit  philosophers,  physical  and 
psychic  suit  poets,  mixed  suit  religious  initiations,  since 
every  initiation  aims  at  uniting  us  with  the  World  and 
the  Gods. 

To  take  another  myth,  they  say  that  the  Mother 
of  the  Gods  seeing  Attis  lying  by  the  river  Gallus 
fell  in  love  with  him,  took  him,  crowned  him  with 

1  e.  g.  when  we  say  '  The  sun  is  coming  in  through  the  window ', 
or  in  Greek  i^at(fivr)q  yJkmv  ck  tov  rjXtov,  Plat.  Rep.  516  E.  This  appears 
to  mean  that  you  can  loosely  apply  the  term  '  Osiris '  both  to  (i)  the 
real  Osiris  and  (ii)  the  corn  which  comes  from  him,  as  you  can  apply 
the  name  '  Sun '  both  to  (i)  the  real  orb  and  (ii)  the  ray  that  comes 
from  the  orb.  However,  Julian,  Or.  v,  on  the  Sun  suggests  a  different 
view — that  both  the  orb  and  the  ray  are  mere  effects  and  symbols  of 
the  true  spiritual  Sun,  as  corn  is  of  Osiris. 


192  SALLUSTIUS 

her  cap  of  stars,  and  thereafter  kept  him  with  her. 
He  fell  in  love  with  a  nymph  and  left  the  Mother  to 
live  with  her.  For  this  the  Mother  of  the  Gods  made 
Attis  go  mad  and  cut  off  his  genital  organs  and  leave 
them  with  the  Nymph,  and  then  return  and  dwell 
with  her. 

Now  the  Mother  of  the  Gods  is  the  principle  that 
generates  life  ;  that  is  why  she  is  called  Mother.  Attis 
is  the  creator  of  all  things  which  are  born  and  die  ; 
that  is  why  he  is  said  to  have  been  found  by  the  river 
Gallus.  For  Gallus  signifies  the  Galaxy,  or  Milky  Way, 
the  point  at  which  body  subject  to  passion  begins.^ 
Now  as  the  primary  gods  make  perfect  the  secondary, 
the  Mother  loves  Attis  and  gives  him  celestial  powers. 
That  is  what  the  cap  means.  Attis  loves  a  nymph  : 
the  nymphs  preside  over  generation,  since  all  that  is 
generated  is  fluid.  But  since  the  process  of  generation 
must  be  stopped  somewhere,  and  not  allowed  to 
generate  something  worse  than  the  worst,  the  Creator 
who  makes  these  things  casts  away  his  generative 
powers  into  the  creation  and  is  joined  to  the  gods  again. 
Now  these  things  never  happened,  but  always  are.  And 
Mind  sees  all  things  at  once,  but  Reason  (or  Speech) 
expresses  some  first  and  others  after.  Thus,  as  the  myth 
is  in  accord  with  the  Cosmos,  we  for  that  reason  keep 
a  festival  imitating  the  Cosmos,  for  how  could  we 
attain  higher  order  ? 

And  at  first  we  ourselves,  having  fallen  from  heaven 
and  living  with  the  Nymph,  are  in  despondency,  and 

^  apx^arOai  Mr.  L.  W.  Hunter,  epx^o-Oai  MS.  Above  the  Milky  Way 
there  is  no  such  body,  only  spirit.    Cf.  Macrob.  in  Somn.  Scip.  i.  12. 


'  ON  THE  GODS  AND  THE  WORLD  '  195 

abstain  from  corn  and  all  rich  and  unclean  food,  for 
both  are  hostile  to  the  soul.  Then  comes  the  cutting  of 
the  tree  and  the  fast,  as  though  we  also  were  cutting 
off  the  further  process  of  generation.  After  that  the 
feeding  on  milk,  as  though  we  were  being  born  again ; 
after  which  come  rejoicings  and  garlands  and,  as  it 
were,  a  return  up  to  the  Gods. 

The  season  of  the  ritual  is  evidence  to  the  truth  of 
these  explanations.  The  rites  are  performed  about 
the  Vernal  Equinox,  when  the  fruits  of  the  earth  are 
ceasing  to  be  produced,  and  day  is  becoming  longer 
than  night,  which  applies  well  to  Spirits  rising  higher. 
(At  least,  the  other  equinox  is  in  mythology  the  time 
of  the  Rape  of  Kore,  which  is  the  descent  of  the 
souls.) 

May  these  explanations  of  the  myths  find  favour  in 
the  eyes  of  the  Gods  themselves  and  the  souls  of  those 
who  wrote  the  myths. 

V.  On  the  First  Cause. 

Next  in  order  comes  knowledge  of  the  First  Cause 
and  the  subsequent  orders  of  the  gods,  then  the 
nature  of  the  world,  the  essence  of  intellect  and  of 
soul,  then  Providence,  Fate,  and  Fortune,  then  to 
see  Virtue  and  Vice  and  the  various  forms  of  social 
constitution  good  and  bad  that  are  formed  from  them, 
and  from  what  possible  source  Evil  came  into  the 
world. 

Each  of  these  subjects  needs  many  long  discussions  ; 
but  there  is  perhaps  no  harm  in  stating  them  briefly, 

p.  p.  648  N 


194  SALLUSTIUS 

so  that  a  disciple  may  not  be  completely  ignorant  about 
them. 

It  is  proper  to  the  First  Cause  to  be  One — for 
unity  precedes  multitude — and  to  surpass  all  things 
in  power  and  goodness.  Consequently  all  things  must 
partake  of  it.  For  owing  to  its  power  nothing  else 
can  hinder  it,  and  owing  to  its  goodness  it  will  not 
hold  itself  apart. 

If  the  First  Cause  were  Soul,  all  things  would  possess 
Soul.  If  it  were  Mind,  all  things  would  possess  Mind. 
If  it  were  Being,  all  things  would  partake  of  Being. 
Seeing  this,  some  men  have  thought  that  it  was 
Being.  Now  if  things  simply  were^  without  being 
good,  this  argument  would  be  true,  but  if  things  that 
are  are  because  of  their  goodness,  and  partake  in  the 
good,  the  First  thing  must  needs  be  both  beyond-Being 
and  good.  It  is  strong  evidence  of  this  that  noble  souls 
despise  Being  for  the  sake  of  the  good,  when  they  face 
death  for  their  country  or  friends  or  for  the  sake  of 
virtue. — After  this  inexpressible  power  come  the  orders 
of  the  Gods. 


VI.  On  Gods  Cosmic  and  Hypercosmic, 

Of  the  Gods  some  are  of  the  world.  Cosmic,  and 
some  above  the  world,  Hypercosmic.  By  the  Cosmic 
I  mean  those  who  make  the  Cosmos.  Of  the  Hyper- 
cosmic Gods  some  create  Essence,  some  Mind,  and 
some  Soul.  Thus  they  have  three  orders ;  all  of 
which  may  be  found  in  treatises  on  the  subject. 

Of  the  Cosmic  Gods  some  make  the  World  be^  others 


*0N  THE  GODS  AND  THE  WORLD'      195 

animate  it,  others  harmonize  it,  consisting  as  it  does 
of  different  elements ;  the  fourth  class  keep  it  when 
harmonized. 

These  are  four  actions,  each  of  which  has  a  beginning, 
middle,  and  end,  consequently  there  must  be  twelve 
gods  governing  the  world. 

Those  who  make  the  world  are  Zeus,  Poseidon,  and 
Hephaistos ;  those  who  animate  it  are  Demeter,  Hera, 
and  Artemis ;  those  who  harmonize  it  are  Apollo, 
Aphrodite,  and  Hermes ;  those  who  watch  over  it  are 
Hestia,  Athena,  and  Ares. 

One  can  see  secret  suggestions  of  this  in  their  images. 
Apollo  tunes  a  lyre  ;  Athena  is  armed  ;  Aphrodite  is 
naked  (because  harmony  creates  beauty,  and  beauty 
in  things  seen  is  not  covered). 

While  these  twelve  in  the  primary  sense  possess  the 
world,  we  should  consider  that  the  other  gods  are 
contained  in  these.  Dionysus  in  Zeus,  for  instance, 
Asklepios  in  Apollo,  the  Charites  in  Aphrodite. 

We  can  also  discern  their  various  spheres  :  to  Hestia 
belongs  the  Earth,  to  Poseidon  water,  to  Hera  air,  to 
Hephaistos  fire.  And  the  six  superior  spheres  to  the 
gods  to  whom  they  are  usually  attributed.  For 
Apollo  and  Artemis  are  to  be  taken  for  the  Sun  and 
Moon,  the  sphere  of  Kronos  should  be  attributed  to 
Demeter,  the  ether  to  Athena,  while  the  heaven  is 
common  to  all.  Thus  the  orders,  powers,  and  spheres 
of  the  Twelve  Gods  have  been  explained  and  celebrated 
in  hymns. 


N  2 


196  SALLUSTIUS 

VII.  O71  the  Nature  of  the  World  and  its  Eternity. 

The  Cosmos  itself  must  of  necessity  be  indestructible 
and  uncreated.  Indestructible  because,  suppose  it 
destroyed :  the  only  possibility  is  to  make  one  better 
than  this  or  worse  or  the  same  or  a  chaos.  If  worse, 
the  power  which  out  of  the  better  makes  the  worse 
must  be  bad.  If  better,  the  maker  who  did  not  make 
the  better  at  first  must  be  imperfect  in  power.  If  the 
same,  there  will  be  no  use  in  making  it ;  if  a  chaos  .  .  . 
it  is  impious  even  to  hear  such  a  thing  suggested.  These 
reasons  would  suffice  to  show  that  the  World  is  also 
uncreated  :  for  if  not  destroyed,  neither  is  it  created. 
Everything  that  is  created  is  subject  to  destruction. 
And  further,  since  the  Cosmos  exists  by  the  goodness  of 
God  it  follows  that  God  must  always  be  good  and  the 
world  exist.  Just  as  light  coexists  with  the  Sun  and 
with  fire,  and  shadow  coexists  with  a  body. 

Of  the  bodies  in  the  Cosmos,  some  imitate  Mind 
and  move  in  orbits  ;  some  imitate  Soul  and  move  in 
a  straight  line,  fire  and  air  upward,  earth  and  water 
downward.  Of  those  that  move  in  orbits  the  fixed 
sphere  goes  from  the  east,  the  Seven  from  the  west. 
(This  is  so  for  various  causes,  especially  lest  the  creation 
should  be  imperfect  owing  to  the  rapid  circuit  of  the 
spheres.)  ^ 

The  movement  being  different,  the  nature  of  the 
bodies   must   also   be   different ;    hence   the  celestial 

1  i.e.  if  the  Firmament  or  Fixed  Sphere  moved  in  the  same  direction 
as  the  seven  Planets,  the  speed  would  become  too  great. 


^ON  THE  GODS  AND  THE  WORLD'     197 

body  does  not  burn  or  freeze  what  it  touches,  or  do 
anything  else  that  pertains  to  the  four  elements.-^ 

And  since  the  Cosmos  is  a  sphere — the  zodiac  proves 
that — and  in  every  sphere  '  down  '  means  '  towards 
the  centre',  for  the  centre  is  furthest  distant  from 
every  point,  and  heavy  things  fall  '  down '  and  fall  to 
the  earth  (it  follows  that  the  Earth  is  in  the  centre 
of  the  Cosmos). 

All  these  things  are  made  by  the  Gods,  ordered  by 
Mind,  moved  by  Soul.  About  the  Gods  we  have 
spoken  already. 

VHI.  On  Mind  and  Soul,  and  that  the  latter 
is  immortaL 

There  is  a  certain  force,^  less  primary  than  Being 
but  more  primary  than  the  Soul,  which  draws  its 
existence  from  Being  and  completes  the  Soul  as  the 
Sun  completes  the  eyes.  Of  Souls  some  are  rational 
and  immortal,  some  irrational  and  mortal.  The 
former  are  derived  from  the  first  Gods,  the  latter 
from  the  secondary. 

First,  we  must  consider  what  soul  is.  It  is,  then, 
that  by  which  the  animate  differs  from  the  inanimate. 
The  difference  lies  in  motion,  sensation,  imagination, 
intelligence.    Soul,  therefore,  when  irrational,  is  the  life 

^  The  fire  of  which  the  heavenly  bodies  are  made  is  the  Tre/xTrroi/ 
a-Cjfxa,  matter,  but  different  from  earthly  matter.    See  p.  117. 

^  Proclus,  Ekm.  Theol.  xx,  calls  it  rj  voepa  cf>v(n<;,  Natura  Intel- 
lectualis.  There  are  four  degrees  of  existence  :  lowest  of  all,  Bodies ; 
above  that,  Soul ;  above  all  Souls,  this  '  Intellectual  Nature  ' ;  above 
that,  The  One. 


198  SALLUSTIUS 

of  sense  and  imagination ;  when  rational,  it  is  the  life 
which  controls  sense  and  imagination  and  uses  reason. 

The  irrational  soul  depends  on  the  affections  of 
the  body ;  it  feels  desire  and  anger  irrationally.  The 
rational  soul  both,  with  the  help  of  reason,  despises  the 
body,  and,  fighting  against  the  irrational  soul,  produces 
either  virtue  or  vice,  according  as  it  is  victorious  or 
defeated. 

It  must  be  immortal,  both  because  it  knows  the 
gods  (and  nothing  mortal  knows  ^  what  is  immortal),  it 
looks  down  upon  human  affairs  as  though  it  stood  out- 
side them,  and,  like  an  unbodied  thing,  it  is  affected  in 
the  opposite  way  to  the  body.  For  while  the  body  is 
young  and  fine,  the  soul  blunders,  but  as  the  body  grows 
old  it  attains  its  highest  power.  Again,  every  good 
soul  uses  mind  ;  but  no  body  can  produce  mind  :  for 
how  should  that  which  is  without  mind  produce  mind  ? 
Again,  while  Soul  uses  the  body  as  an  instrument,  it  is 
not  in  it ;  just  as  the  engineer  is  not  in  his  engines 
(although  many  engines  move  without  being  touched 
by  any  one).  And  if  the  Soul  is  often  made  to  err  by 
the  body,  that  is  not  surprising.  For  the  arts  cannot 
perform  their  work  when  their  instruments  are  spoilt. 

IX.  On  Providence,  Fate,  and  Fortune. 

This  is  enough  to  show  the  Providence  of  the  Gods. 

For  whence  comes  the  ordering  of  the  world,  if  there 

is  no  ordering  power?    And  whence  comes  the  fact 

that  all  things  are  for  a  purpose:    e.g.  irrational  soul 

^  i.e.  in  the  full  sense  of  Gnosis. 


'  ON  THE  GODS  AND  THE  WORLD  '   199 

that   there  may  be   sensation,  and   rational  that  the 
earth  may  be  set  in  order  ? 

But  one  can  deduce  the  same  result  from  the  evidences 
of  Providence  in  nature  :  e.g.  the  eyes  have  been  made 
transparent  with  a  view  to  seeing ;  the  nostrils  are 
above  the  mouth  to  distinguish  bad-smelHng  foods ; 
the  front  teeth  are  sharp,  to  cut  food,  the  back 
teeth  broad  to  grind  it.  And  we  find  every  part  of 
every  object  arranged  on  a  similar  principle.  It  is 
impossible  that  there  should  be  so  much  providence 
in  the  last  details,  and  none  in  the  first  principles.  Then 
the  arts  of  prophecy  and  of  healing,  which  are  part  of 
the  Cosmos,  come  of  the  good  providence  of  the  gods. 

All  this  care  for  the  world,  we  must  believe,  is  taken 
by  the  Gods  without  any  act  of  will  or  labour.  As 
bodies  which  possess  some  power  produce  their  effects 
by  merely  existing  :  e.g.  the  sun  gives  light  and  heat  by 
merely  existing  ;  so,  and  far  more  so,  the  Providence 
of  the  Gods  acts  without  effort  to  itself  and  for  the 
good  of  the  objects  of  its  forethought.  This  solves 
the  problems  of  the  Epicureans,  who  argue  that  what 
is  Divine  neither  has  trouble  itself  nor  gives  trouble  to 
others. 

The  incorporeal  providence  of  the  Gods,  both  for 
bodies  and  for  souls,  is  of  this  sort  :  but  that  which 
is  of  bodies  and  in  bodies  is  different  from  this,  and  is 
called  Fate,  Heimarmene,  because  the  chain  of  causes 
(Heirmos)  is  more  visible  in  the  case  of  bodies ;  and  it 
is  for  dealing  with  this  Fate  that  the  science  of 
*  Mathematic  '  has  been  discovered.^ 

^  i.  e.  Astrology,  dealing  with  the  '  Celestial  Bodies ', 


200  SALLUSTIUS 

Therefore,  to  believe  that  human  things,  especially 
their  material  constitution,  are  ordered  not  only  by 
celestial  beings  but  by  the  Celestial  Bodies,  is  a 
reasonable  and  true  belief.  Reason  shows  that  health 
and  sickness,  good  fortune  and  bad  fortune,  arise 
according  to  our  deserts  from  that  source.  But  to 
attribute  men's  acts  of  injustice  and  lust  to  Fate,  is 
to  make  ourselves  good  and  the  Gods  bad.  Unless  by 
chance  a  man  meant  by  such  a  statement  that  in 
general  all  things  are  for  the  good  of  the  world  and  for 
those  who  are  in  a  natural  state,  but  that  bad  educa- 
tion or  weakness  of  nature  changes  the  goods  of  Fate 
for  the  worse.  Just  as  it  happens  that  the  Sun, 
which  is  good  for  all,  may  be  injurious  to  persons  with 
ophthalmia  or  fever.  Else  why  do  the  Massagetae  eat 
their  fathers,  the  Hebrews  practise  circumcision,  and  the 
Persians  preserve  rules  of  rank  ?  ^  Why  do  astrologers, 
while  calling  Saturn  and  Mars  '  malignant ',  proceed 
to  make  them  good,  attributing  to  them  philosophy 
and  royalty,  generalships  and  treasures?  And  if  they 
are  going  to  talk  of  triangles  and  squares,  it  is  absurd 
that  gods  should  change  their  natures  according  to  their 
position  in  space,  while  human  virtue  remains  the  same 
everywhere.  Also  the  fact  that  the  stars  predict  high 
or  low  rank  for  the  father  of  the  person  whose  horoscope 
is  taken,  teaches  that  they  do  not  always  make  things 
happen  but  sometimes  only  indicate  things.  For  how 
could  things  which  preceded  the  birth  depend  upon 
the  birth? 

Further,  as  there  is  Providence  and  Fate  concerned 
1  Cf.  Hdt.i.  134. 


'  ON  THE  GODS  AND  THE  WORLD '  201 

with  nations  and  cities,  and  also  concerned  with  each 
individual,  so  there  is  also  Fortune,  which  should 
next  be  treated.  That  power  of  the  gods  which  orders 
for  the  good  things  which  are  not  uniform,  and  which 
happen  contrary  to  expectation,  is  commonly  called 
Fortune,  and  it  is  for  this  reason  that  the  goddess  is 
especially  worshipped  in  public  by  cities  :  for  every 
city  consists  of  elements  which  are  not  uniform. 
Fortune  has  power  beneath  the  moon,  since  above 
the  moon  no  single  thing  can  happen  by  fortune. 

If  Fortune  makes  a  wicked  man  prosperous  and 
a  good  man  poor,  there  is  no  need  to  wonder.  For 
the  wicked  regard  wealth  as  everything,  the  good  as 
nothing.  And  the  good  fortune  of  the  bad  cannot 
take  away  their  badness,  while  virtue  alone  will  be 
enough  for  the  good. 


X.  Concerning  Virtue  and  Vice. 

The  doctrine  of  Virtue  and  Vice  depends  on  that  of 
the  Soul.  When  the  irrational  soul  enters  into  the 
body  and  immediately  produces  Fight  and  Desire, 
the  rational  soul,  put  in  authority  over  all  these,  makes 
the  soul  tripartite,  composed  of  Reason,  Fight,  and 
Desire.  Virtue  in  the  region  of  Reason  is  Wisdom, 
in  the  region  of  Fight  is  Courage,  in  the  region  of 
Desire  it  is  Temperance  ;  the  virtue  of  the  whole 
Soul  is  Righteousness.  It  is  for  Reason  to  judge 
what  is  right,  for  Fight  in  obedience  to  Reason 
to  despise  things  that  appear  terrible,  for  Desire  to. 
pursue  not  the  apparently  desirable,  but,  that  which 


202  SALLUSTIUS 

is  with  Reason  desirable.  When  these  things  are  so,  we 
have  a  righteous  life  ;  for  righteousness  in  matters  of 
property  is  but  a  small  part  of  virtue.  And  thus  we 
may  find  all  four  virtues  in  properly  trained  men,  but 
among  the  untrained  one  may  be  brave  and  unjust, 
another  temperate  and  stupid,  another  prudent  and 
unprincipled.  Indeed  these  qualities  should  not  be 
called  Virtues  when  they  are  devoid  of  Reason  and 
imperfect  and  found  in  irrational  beings.  Vice  should 
be  regarded  as  consisting  of  the  opposite  elements.  In 
Reason  it  is  Folly,  in  Fight,  Cowardice,  in  Desire, 
Intemperance,  in  the  whole  soul,  Unrighteousness. 

The  virtues  are  produced  by  the  right  social  organi- 
zation and  by  good  rearing  and  education,  the  vices  by 
the  opposite. 

XI.  Concerning  right  and  wrong  Social  Organization} 

Constitutions  also  depend  on  the  tripartite  nature  of 
the  Soul.  The  rulers  are  analogous  to  Reason,  the 
soldiers  to  Fight,  the  common  folk  to  Desires. 

Where  all  things  are  done  according  to  reason  and 
the  best  man  in  the  nation  rules,  it  is  a  Kingdom  ; 
where  more  than  one  rule  according  to  reason  and 
fight,  it  is  an  Aristocracy;  where  the  government 
is  according  to  desire  and  offices  depend  on  money,  that 
constitution  is  called  a  Timocracy.  The  contraries 
are :     to    Kingdom   tyranny,    for    Kingdom   does   all 

^  [This  section  is  a  meagre  reminiscence  of  Plato's  discussion  in 
Repub.  viii.  The  interest  in  politics  and  government  had  died  out 
with  the  loss  of  political  freedom.] 


'  ON  THE  GODS  AND  THE  WORLD '  205 

things  with  the  guidance  of  reason  and  Tyranny 
nothing  ;  to  Aristocracy  oligarchy,  when  not  the  best 
people  but  a  few  of  the  worst  are  rulers ;  to  Timocracy 
democracy,  when  not  the  rich  but  the  common  folk 
possess  the  whole  power. 


Xn.  The  origin  of  evil  things ;  and  that  there 
is  no  positive  evil. 

The  Gods  being  good  and  making  all  things,  how 
do  evils  exist  in  the  world  ?  Or  perhaps  it  is  better  first 
to  state  the  fact  that,  the  Gods  being  good  and  making 
all  things,  there  is  no  positive  evil,  it  only  comes  by 
absence  of  good  ;  just  as  darkness  itself  does  not  exist, 
but  only  comes  about  by  absence  of  light. 

If  Evil  exists  it  must  exist  either  in  Gods  or  minds 
or  souls  or  bodies.  It  does  not  exist  in  any  god,  for 
all  god  is  good.  If  any  one  speaks  of  a  '  bad  mind  ' 
he  means  a  mind  without  mind.  If  of  a  bad  soul,  he 
will  make  soul  inferior  to  body,  for  no  body  in  itself 
is  evil.  If  he  says  that  Evil  is  made  up  of  soul  and 
body  together,  it  is  absurd  that  separately  they  should 
not  be  evil,  but  joined  should  create  evil. 

Suppose  it  is  said  that  there  are  evil  spirits : — if  they 
have  their  power  from  the  gods,  they  cannot  be  evil ; 
if  from  elsewhere,  the  gods  do  not  make  all  things. 
If  they  do  not  make  all  things,  then  either  they  wish 
to  and  cannot,  or  they  can  and  do  not  wish  ;  neither 
of  which  is  consistent  with  the  idea  of  God.  We  may 
see,  therefore,  from  these  arguments,  that  there  is  no 
positive  evil  in  the  world. 


204  SALLUSTIUS 

It  is  in  the  activities  of  men  that  the  evils  appear,  and 
that  not  of  all  men  nor  always.  And  as  to  these,  if 
men  sinned  for  the  sake  of  evil.  Nature  itself  would  be 
evil.  But  if  the  adulterer  thinks  his  adultery  bad  but 
his  pleasure  good,  and  the  murderer  thinks  the  murder 
bad  but  the  money  he  gets  by  it  good,  and  the  man 
who  does  evil  to  an  enemy  thinks  that  to  do  evil  is  bad 
but  to  punish  his  enemy  good,  and  if  the  soul  commits 
all  its  sins  in  that  way,  then  the  evils  are  done  for  the 
sake  of  goodness.  (In  the  same  way,  because  in  a  given 
place  light  does  not  exist,  there  comes  darkness,  which 
has  no  positive  existence.)  The  soul  sins  therefore 
because,  while  aiming  at  good,  it  makes  mistakes  about 
the  good,  because  it  is  not  Primary  Essence.  And  we 
see  many  things  done  by  the  Gods  to  prevent  it  from 
making  mistakes  and  to  heal  it  when  it  has  made  them. 
Arts  and  sciences,  curses  and  prayers,  sacrifices  and 
initiations,  laws  and  constitutions,  judgements  and 
punishments,  all  came  into  existence  for  the  sake  of 
preventing  souls  from  sinning ;  and  when  they  are  gone 
forth  from  the  body  gods  and  spirits  of  purification 
cleanse  them  of  their  sins. 


XIII.     How  things  eternal  are  said  to  '  be  made ' 
{yiy  veer  6  at). 

Concerning  the  Gods  and  the  World  and  human 
things  this  account  will  suffice  for  those  who  are  not 
able  to  go  through  the  whole  course  of  philosophy  but 
yet  have  not  souls  beyond  help. 

It  remains  to  explain  how  these  objects  were  never 


'  ON  THE  GODS  AND  THE  WORLD  '  205 

made  and  are  never  separated  one  from  another,  since 
we  ourselves  have  said  above  that  the  secondary  sub- 
stances were  '  made '  by  the  first. 

Everything  made  is  made  either  by  art  or  by  a 
physical  process  or  according  to  some  power. ^  Now  in 
art  or  nature  the  maker  must  needs  be  prior  to  the 
made  :  but  the  maker,  according  to  power,  constitutes 
the  made  absolutely  together  with  itself,  since  its 
power  is  inseparable  from  it ;  as  the  sun  makes  light, 
fire  makes  heat,  snow  makes  cold. 

Now  if  the  Gods  make  the  world  by  art,  they  do 
not  make  it  be^  they  make  it  be  such  as  it  is.  For  all 
art  makes  the  form  of  the  object.  What  therefore 
makes  it  to  be? 

If  by  a  physical  process,  how  in  that  case  can  the 
maker  help  giving  part  of  himself  to  the  made  ?  As 
the  Gods  are  incorporeal,  the  World  ought  to  be 
incorporeal  too.  If  it  were  argued  that  the  Gods  were 
bodies,  then  where  would  the  power  of  incorporeal 
things  come  from  ?  But  if  we  admit  it,  it  follows  that 
when  the  world  decays,  its  maker  must  be  decaying 
too,  if  he  is  a  maker  by  physical  process. 

If  the  Gods  make  the  world  neither  by  art  nor  by 
physical  process,  it  only  remains  that  they  make  it 
by  power.  Everything  so  made  subsists  together  with 
that  which  possesses  the  power.  Neither  can  things 
so  made  be  destroyed,  except  the  power  of  the  maker 
be  taken  away  :  so  that  those  who  believe  in  the 
destruction  of  the  world,  either  deny  the  existence 

^  Kara  8wa/u,ti/,  secundum  potentiam  quandam  :  i.e.  in  accordance 
with  some  indwelling  '  virtue  '  or  quality. 


2o6  SALLUSTIUS 

of    the   gods,    or,    while   admitting   it,    deny   God's 
power. 

Therefore  he  who  makes  all  things  by  his  own 
power  makes  all  things  subsist  together  with  himself. 
And  since  his  power  is  the  greatest  power  he  must 
needs  be  the  maker  not  only  of  men  and  animals,  but 
of  Gods,  men,  and  spirits.  And  the  further  removed 
the  First  God  is  from  our  nature,  the  more  powers  there 
must  be  between  us  and  him.  For  all  things  that  are 
very  far  apart  have  many  intermediate  points  between 
them. 


XIV.  In  what  sense^   though   the   Gods  never  change^ 
they  are  said  to  he  made  angry  and  appeased. 

If  any  one  thinks  the  doctrine  of  the  unchangeable- 
ness  of  the  Gods  is  reasonable  and  true,  and  then 
wonders  how  it  is  that  they  rejoice  in  the  good  and 
reject  the  bad,  are  angry  with  sinners  and  become 
propitious  when  appeased,  the  answer  is  as  follows  : 
God  does  not  rejoice — for  that  which  rejoices  also 
grieves ;  nor  is  he  angered — for  to  be  angered  is  a 
passion  ;  nor  is  he  appeased  by  gifts — if  he  were,  he 
would  be  conquered  by  pleasure. 

It  is  impious  to  suppose  that  the  Divine  is  affected 
for  good  or  ill  by  human  things.  The  Gods  are 
always  good  and  always  do  good  and  never  harm,  being 
always  in  the  same  state  and  like  themselves.  The 
truth  simply  is  that,  when  we  are  good,  we  are  joined 
to  the  Gods  by  our  likeness  to  them  ;  when  bad,  we  are 
separated  from  them  by  our  unlikeness.     And  when 


'  ON  THE  GODS  AND  THE  WORLD  '  207 

we  live  according  to  virtue  we  cling  to  the  gods,  and 
when  we  become  evil  we  make  the  gods  our  enemies — 
not  because  they  are  angered  against  us,  but  because 
our  sins  prevent  the  light  of  the  gods  from  shining 
upon  us,  and  put  us  in  communion  with  spirits  of 
punishment.  And  if  hy  prayers  and  sacrifices  we  find 
forgiveness  of  sins,  we  do  not  appease  or  change  the 
gods,  but  by  what  we  do  and  by  our  turning  towards 
the  Divine  we  heal  our  own  badness  and  so  enjoy  again 
the  goodness  of  the  gods.  To  say  that  God  turns 
away  from  the  evil  is  like  saying  that  the  sun  hides 
himself  from  the  blind. 


XV.  Why  we  give  worship  to  the  Gods  when 
they  need  nothing. 

This  solves  the  question  about  sacrifices  and  other 
rites  performed  to  the  Gods.  The  Divine  itself  is 
without  needs,  and  the  worship  is  paid  for  our  own 
benefit.  The  providence  of  the  Gods  reaches  every- 
where and  needs  only  some  congruity  ^  for  its  reception. 
All  congruity  comes  about  by  representation  and 
likeness ;  for  which  reason  the  temples  are  made  in 
representation  of  heaven,  the  altar  of  earth,  the  images 
of  life  (that  is  why  they  are  made  like  living  things),  the 
prayers  of  the  element  of  thought,  the  mystic  letters  ^ 
of  the  unspeakable  celestial  forces,  the  herbs  and  stones 
of  matter,  and  the  sacrificial  animals  of  the  irrational 
life  in  us. 

^  On  the  mystic  letters  see  above,  p.  123. 


2o8  SALLUSTIUS 

From  all  these  things  the  Gods  gain  nothing ;  what 
gain  could  there  be  to  God  ?  It  is  we  who  gain  some 
communion  with  them. 


XVI.  Concerning  sacrifices  a7id  other  worships^  that  we 
benefit  man  by  them,  but  not  the  gods. 

I  think  it  well  to  add  some  remarks  about  sacrifices. 
In  the  first  place,  since  we  have  received  everything 
from  the  gods,  and  it  is  right  to  pay  the  giver  some 
tithe  of  his  gifts,  we  pay  such  a  tithe  of  possessions 
in  votive  offerings,  of  bodies  in  gifts  of  (hair  and) 
adornment,  and  of  life  in  sacrifices.  Then  secondly, 
prayers  without  sacrifices  are  only  words,  with  sacri- 
fices they  are  live  words  ;  the  word  gives  meaning 
to  the  life,  while  the  life  animates  the  word.  Thirdly, 
the  happiness  of  every  object  is  its  own  perfection  ; 
and  perfection  for  each  is  communion  with  its  own 
cause.  For  this  reason  we  pray  for  communion  with 
the  Gods.  Since,  therefore,  the  first  life  is  the  life  of 
the  gods,  but  human  life  is  also  life  of  a  kind,  and 
human  life  wishes  for  communion  with  divine  life, 
a  mean  term  is  needed.  For  things  very  far  apart 
cannot  have  communion  without  a  mean  term,  and  the 
mean  term  must  be  like  the  things  joined  ;  therefore 
the  mean  term  between  life  and  life  must  be  life. 
That  is  why  men  sacrifice  animals ;  only  the  rich  do 
so  now,  but  in  old  days  everybody  did,  and  that  not 
indiscriminately,  but  giving  the  suitable  offerings  to 
each  god  together  with  a  great  deal  of  other  worship. 
Enough  of  this  subject. 


'  ON  THE  GODS  AND  THE  WORLD '     209 

XVn.  That  the  World  is  by  statute  Eternal, 

We  have  shown  above  that  the  gods  will  not  destroy 
the  world.  It  remains  to  show  that  its  nature  is 
indestructible. 

Everything  that  is  destroyed  is  either  destroyed  by 
itself  or  by  something  else.  If  the  world  is  destroyed 
by  itself,  fire  must  needs  burn  itself  and  water  dry 
itself.  If  by  something  else,  it  must  be  either  by  a 
body  or  by  something  incorporeal.  By  something  incor- 
poreal is  impossible  ;  for  incorporeal  things  preserve 
bodies — nature,  for  instance  and  soul — and  nothing  is 
destroyed  by  a  cause  whose  nature  is  to  preserve  it. 
If  it  is  destroyed  by  some  body,  it  must  be  either  by 
those  which  exist  or  by  others. 

If  by  those  which  exist :  then  either  those  moving 
in  a  straight  line  must  be  destroyed  by  those  that 
revolve,  or  vice  versa.  But  those  that  revolve  have 
no  destructive  nature  ;  else,  why  do  we  never  see 
anything  destroyed  from  that  cause?  Nor  yet  can 
those  which  are  moving  straight  touch  the  others ; 
else,  why  have  they  never  been  able  to  do  so  yet? 

But  neither  can  those  moving  straight  be  destroyed 
by  one  another  :  for  the  destruction  of  one  is  the 
creation  of  another  ;  and  that  is  not  to  be  destroyed 
but  to  change. 

But  if  the  World  is  to  be  destroyed  by  other  bodies 
than  these  it  is  impossible  to  say  where  such  bodies 
are  or  whence  they  are  to  arise. 

Again,  everything  destroyed  is  destroyed  either  in 
form  or  matter.     (Form  is  the  shape  of  a  thing,  matter 

p.  p.  648  O 


210  SALLUSTIUS 

the  body.)  Now  if  the  form  is  destroyed  and  the 
matter  remains,  we  see  other  things  come  into  being. 
If  matter  is  destroyed,  how  is  it  that  the  supply  has 
not  failed  in  all  these  years  ? 

If  when  matter  is  destroyed  other  matter  takes  its 
place,  the  new  matter  must  come  either  from  some- 
thing that  is  or  from  something  that  is  not.  If  from 
that-which-is,  as  long  as  that-which-is  always  remains, 
matter  always  remains.  But  if  that-which-is  is  de- 
stroyed, such  a  theory  means  that  not  the  World  only 
but  everything  in  the  universe  is  destroyed. 

If  again  matter  comes  from  that-which-is-not :  in 
the  first  place,  it  is  impossible  for  anything  to  come 
from  that  which  is  not ;  but  suppose  it  to  happen,  and 
that  matter  did  arise  from  that  which  is  not ;  then, 
as  long  as  there  are  things  which  are  not,  matter  will 
exist.  For  I  presume  there  can  never  be  an  end  of 
things  which  are  not. 

If  they  say  that  matter  (will  become)  formless  :  in 
the  first  place,  why  does  this  happen  to  the  world  as  a 
whole  when  it  does  not  happen  to  any  part  ?  Secondly, 
by  this  hypothesis  they  do  not  destroy  the  being  of 
bodies,  but  only  their  beauty. 

Further,  everything  destroyed  is  either  resolved  into 
the  elements  from  which  it  came,  or  else  vanishes  into 
not-being.  If  things  are  resolved  into  the  elements 
from  which  they  came,  then  there  will  be  others  :  else 
how  did  they  come  into  being  at  all?  If  that-which-is 
is  to  depart  into  not-being,  what  prevents  that  happen- 
ing to  God  himself  ?  (Which  is  absurd.)  Or  if  God's 
power  prevents  that,  it  is  not  a  mark  of  power  to  be 


'ON  THE  GODS  AND  THE  WORLD  '      211 

able  to  save  nothing  but  oneself.  And  it  is  equally 
impossible  for  that-which-is  to  come  out  of  nothing 
and  to  depart  into  nothing. 

Again,  if  the  World  is  destroyed,  it  must  needs  either 
be  destroyed  according  to  Nature  or  against  Nature. 
Against  Nature  is  impossible,  for  that  which  is  against 
Nature  is  not  stronger  than  Nature.  If  according  to 
Nature,  there  must  be  another  Nature  which  changes 
the  Nature  of  the  World  :   which  does  not  appear. 

Again,  anything  that  is  naturally  destructible  we 
can  ourselves  destroy.  But  no  one  has  ever  destroyed 
or  altered  the  round  body  of  the  World.  And  the 
elements,  though  they  can  be  changed,  cannot  be 
destroyed.  Again,  everything  destructible  is  changed 
by  time  and  grows  old.  But  the  world  through  all 
these  years  has  remained  utterly  unchanged. 

Having  said  so  much  for  the  help  of  those  who  feel 
the  need  of  very  strong  demonstrations,  I  pray  the 
World  himself  to  be  gracious  to  me. 

XVni.  Why  there  are  rejections  of  God,  and  that 
God  is  not  injured. 

Nor  need  the  fact  that  rejections  of  God  have  taken 
place  in  certain  parts  of  the  earth  and  will  often 
take  place  hereafter,  disturb  the  mind  of  the  wise  :  both 
because  these  things  do  not  affect  the  gods,  just  as  we 
saw  that  worship  did  not  benefit  them  ;  and  because 
the  soul,  being  of  middle  essence,  cannot  be  always 
right ;  and  because  the  whole  world  cannot  enjoy 
the  providence   of   the  gods  equally,  but  some  parts 

o  2 


212  SALLUSTIUS 

may  partake  of  it  eternally,  some  at  certain  times,  some 
in  the  primal  manner,  some  in  the  secondary.  Just 
as  the  head  enjoys  all  the  senses,  but  the  rest  of  the 
body  only  one. 

For  this  reason,  it  seems,  those  who  ordained 
Festivals  ordained  also  Forbidden  Days,  in  which 
some  temples  lay  idle,  some  were  shut,  some  had  their 
adornment  removed,  in  expiation  of  the  weakness  of  our 
nature. 

It  is  not  unlikely,  too,  that  the  rejection  of  God  is 
a  kind  of  punishment  :  we  may  well  believe  that  those 
who  knew  the  gods  and  neglected  them  in  one  life  may 
in  another  life  be  deprived  of  the  knowledge  of  them 
altogether.  Also  those  who  have  worshipped  their 
own  kings  as  gods  have  deserved  as  their  punishment 
to  lose  all  knowledge  of  God. 

XIX.  Why  sinners  are  not  punished  at  once. 

There  is  no  need  to  be  surprised  if  neither  these 
sins  nor  yet  others  bring  immediate  punishment  upon 
sinners.  For  it  is  not  only  Spirits  ^  who  punish  the 
soul,  the  Soul  brings  itself  to  judgement  :  and  also  it 
is  not  right  for  those  who  endure  for  ever  to  attain 
everything  in  a  short  time  :  and  also,  there  is  need  of 
human  virtue.  If  punishment  followed  instantly  upon 
sin,  men  would  act  justly  from  fear  and  have  no  virtue. 

Souls  are  punished  when  they  have  gone  forth  from 
the  body,  some  wandering  among  us,  some  going  to 
hot  or  cold  places   of  the  earth,   some  harassed  by 


'ON  THE  GODS  AND  THE  WORLD'     215 

Spirits.  Under  all  circumstances  they  suffer  with 
the  irrational  part  of  their  nature,  with  which  they 
also  sinned.  For  its  sake  ^  there  subsists  that  shadowy 
body  which  is  seen  about  graves,  especially  the  graves 
of  evil  livers. 


XX.  On  Transmigration  of  Souls,  and  how  Souls  are 
said  to  migrate  into  brute  beasts. 

If  the  transmigration  of  a  soul  takes  place  into  a 
rational  being,  it  simply  becomes  the  soul  of  that  body. 
But  if  the  soul  migrates  into  a  brute  beast,  it  follows 
the  body  outside,  as  a  guardian  spirit  follows  a  man. 
For  there  could  never  be  a  rational  soul  in  an  irrational 
being. 

The  transmigration  of  souls  can  be  proved  from  the 
congenital  afflictions  of  persons.  For  why  are  some 
born  blind,  others  paralytic,  others  with  some  sickness 
in  the  soul  itself  ?  Again,  it  is  the  natural  duty  of  Souls 
to  do  their  work  in  the  body  ;  are  we  to  suppose  that 
when  once  they  leave  the  body  they  spend  all  eternity 
in  idleness  ? 

Again,  if  the  souls  did  not  again  enter  into  bodies, 
they  must  either  be  infinite  in  number  or  God  must 
constantly  be  making  new  ones.  But  there  is  nothing 
infinite  in  the  world ;  for  in  a  finite  whole  there  cannot 
be  an  infinite  part.  Neither  can  others  be  made  ;  for 
everything  in  which  something  new  goes  on  being 
created,  must  be  imperfect.  And  the  World,  being 
made  by  a  perfect  author,  ought  naturally  to  be  perfect. 
^  i.  e.  that  it  may  continue  to  exist  and  satisfy  justice. 


214  SALLUSTIUS 

XXI.  7hat  the  Good  are  happy,  both  living  and  dead. 

Souls  that  have  lived  in  virtue  are  in  general  happy ,^ 
and  when  separated  from  the  irrational  part  of  their 
nature,  and  made  clean  from  all  matter,  have  com- 
munion with  the  gods  and  join  them  in  the  governing 
of  the  whole  world.  Yet  even  if  none  of  this  happiness 
fell  to  their  lot,  virtue  itself,  and  the  joy  and  glory  of 
virtue,  and  the  life  that  is  subject  to  no  grief  and  no 
master  are  enough  to  make  happy  those  who  have  set 
themselves  to  live  according  to  virtue  and  have 
achieved  it. 


1 


ivSaiy. 


€VOaLIJLOVOVaL. 


INDEX 


Achaloi,  58,  64, 

Aeschylus,  26*,  42^,  123,  134^, 
138^;  Zeus  in,  69^. 

Agathos  Daimon,  Hermes  as,  75. 

Agricultural  rites,  cruelty  of,  49  ; 
in  spring,  46. 

Agriculture,  Religion  in,  18  f. 

Alcmaeon,  133^. 

Alexander  as  God-Man,  134  f., 
140. 

Allegory,  in  Hellenistic  philo- 
sophy, 146-50  ;  in  Olympian 
religion,  95. 

Ammianus,  162,  173^. 

'AvdyKY]  ^vo-io?,  115,  127. 

Anaxagoras,  82. 

Anaximander,  47^. 

aVSpe?,  duties  of,  45. 

Anthesteria,  30-2. 

Anthister,  32^. 

Anthropomorphism,  in  Greek 
religion  not  primitive,  24-7  ; 
in  Hellenistic  age,  1 18,  120; 
natural  to  primitive  man,  23-5, 
37  ;  result  of  agricultural  rites, 

46. 

Anthropophuism,  25. 

Antipater,  139^. 

Apaturia,  70. 

Apellae,  70. 

A  pell  on  =  AY>^\\or\,  70. 

A p hi k tor,  42. 

Aphrodite,  absorbs  other  Korai, 

Apollo,  attributes  of,  34 ;  in 
Athens,  92  ;  in  Homer,  65,  66  ; 
origin  and  character  of,  69  f. 


Apuleius,  initiation  of,  129. 
Argos,  in  Homer,  76. 
Aristarchus  of  Samos,  122. 
Aristophanes,  33,  34^,  94^. 
Aristotle,    108,    116,    120^,  122^, 

133,  135^- 
Ark  of  Israel,  88. 
Artemis,  absorbs  other  Korai,  83  ; 

of  Ephesus,  78. 
Asceticism  in  antiquity,  163,  l8l. 
Asclepios,  132. 
Astrology,  123,  199^  200. 
Atheiai,     why    permitted,     175, 

211  f. 
Athena,  absorbs  other  Korai,  83  ; 

as  an  ideal,  94  ;    attributes  of, 

34  ;  derivation,  72^  ;  in  Homer, 

65  ;    origin  and  character  of, 

70-2  ;   original  in  Athens,  92  ; 

sent  to  Athenian  colonies,  92  ; 

with  owl's  head,  38. 
Athenaeus,  147^. 
Athens,  adoption  of  gods  by,  92  ; 

Athena  as  Kore  of,  71. 
Attis  myth,  explanation  of,  191  ff. 
*  Attributes ',  animals  as,  34. 
Augustine,  St.,  50^  161. 
Aurelius,  Marcus,  159  f. 
Australians,     anthropomorphism 

among,  25  ;  disbelief  in  natural 

death,  37. 
Avenger,  Year  as,  47. 

Babylon,  week  of,  123. 
'  Barbaroi '   as  opposed  to  Hel- 
lenes, 57. 
Bdsileus,  marriage  of,  3 1 . 


2l6 


INDEX 


Baunack,  J.,  72*. 

Beast-mask,  37  f. 

Bendis,  131. 

Berossos,  124. 

Bethe,  E.,  131^ 

Bevan,  A.  A.,  145I. 

Bevan,  E.,  57I,  1342. 

Bortheia^  see  Orthia. 

JBoukolion,  32. 

Boundary-stone,  Hermes  as,  74. 

Bousset,  W.,  119^  1272,  1313,  143, 

1452. 
Bull,    blood    of,    34 ;     in    pre- 

Hellenic  ritual,    34-6 ;     mask, 

38  ;  why  sacred,  33. 

Camel,  sacramental  eating  of,  36. 
Chadwick,  H.  M.,  66,  yy^,  78. 
Chaldaeans,  124,  131. 
Christian  era,  characteristics  of, 

103/.  , 
Christianity,    belief    in    end    of 

world  by  fire,  174  ;    compared 

with  Greek  Philosophy,   105  ; 

early,  organization  of,   178  f. ; 

rejection  of  gods,  166  ;  struggle 

with  Paganism,  179. 
Christmas,  Father,  29. 
Chrysippus,  iiqI,  1158,  117,  120^, 

125I,  1261,  139,  146. 
Chthonioi,  as  oracles,  51 ;  sacrifice 

to,  28  ;  snake  lives  among,  33. 
Cicero,  418,  1252,  127,  1332,  139. 
Circumcelliones,  50^. 
Classification   according   to   age, 

45  f. 

Cleanthes,  115,  122,  146. 
Cleisthenes,  constitution  of,  87. 
CoUitz  and  Bechtel,  72^. 
Command,  the  religious,  19^. 
Congress    of    Religions,     Third 

International,  23. 
Constantine,  vision  of,  41. 
Constantius,  164,  167. 


Cook,  A.  B,  30I,  38,  392,  6j\ 

68,  76^,  85I. 
Corinna,  61 2. 
Cornford,  F.  M.,  47I. 
Cornutus,  147. 
Corpus  Hermeticum,  129,  143. 
Crates,  146. 
Creed,  value  of  a,  158. 
Crete,  religion  of,  85*. 
Cumont,  F.,  50^. 
Cynics,  148. 

Dadouchos,  38. 
Dance,  religious,  41-3. 
Darius  as  God,  134. 
Davenport,  Professor  F.  M.,  41I. 
Davids,  Mrs.  Rhys,  232. 
Davy,  G.,  19^ 
Dead,  worship  of,  82. 
Deification,  origin  of,  39. 
Delphi,  bull  at,  34. 
Demeter,  and  Kore  in  Athens,  92; 

in  Thesmophoria,  29  f. 
Demetrius  of  Phalerum,  113^. 
Democritus,  109,  1332. 
Dharmay  23. 
Diadochi,  135. 
Dialect  in  literature,  change  of, 

61. 
Diasia,  27-9. 
Dicaearchus,  108. 
Didymus,  108. 
Dieterich,  A.,  312,  37I,  432,  126, 

1313. 
Dike,  possessed  by  King,  39. 
Dio  Cassius,  123. 
Diodorus,  124. 

Diogenes  Laertius,  120^,  176^, 
Diogenes  of  Oenoanda,  151  f. 
Dione,  ousted  by  Hera,  75. 
Dionysus,  at  Anthesteria,  30  f .  ; 

attributes   of,    34 ;     compared 

with     Alexander,      140 ;       in 

Athens,  92. 


INDEX 


217 


Atos  Koja?,  38. 
Dithyramb,  42. 
Dittenberger,  W.,  29^,  137I. 
Divination,  belief  in,  125  f. 
Divine    animal,    in    ritual,     30, 

33-5;   origin  of,  35. 
Doutte,  E.,  41,  42. 
Drdmena,  spring,  44  if. 
Durkheim,  Professor  Emile,  19^. 
'  Dying  god  ',  144. 

Earth,  as  divine,  117  ;   as  Kouro- 

trophos,  43. 
Edda,  gods  of  the,  79. 
Egyptians,  deification  of  material 

objects,  190  ;  gods  of,  37. 
Ekstasis,  130. 
Elean  gods,  63. 
EnthousiasmoSj  130. 
Eos,  connexion  with  Athena,  71. 
€"<^r;/?os,  45,  46^- 
Epicureanism,      exposition      by 

Diogenes  of  Oenoanda,  151  f.  ; 

repudiated  astrology,  125. 
Epicurus,  109  :".,  1 1 6,  120^,  121, 

176I. 
Epiphanius,  145^. 
Eratosthenes,  109. 
Euetheia,  16. 
Euhemerus,  119,  141. 
Euripides,  26*,  43,  73*,  80^,  94^ 

96,  115I,  123,  132. 
Eusebius,  41^. 
Eusebius  the  Ionian,  182. 
Evangelical  movement,  58.  i 

Evans,  Sir  A.,  34,  85^.  ! 

Evil,  non-existent,  171,  203  f.        : 
Expurgation,    of    legends,    80^ ; 

of  mythology,  95  f. ;    of  rites, 

81  f. 


Failure,  sense   of,  103  f.,  et   III  | 
passim.  1 


Faith,  21. 

Farnell,  Dr.  L.  R.,  32^,  34I,  62, 
692. 

Fate,  127  ;  worship  of,  115  f. 

Ferguson,  W.  S.,  133^. 

Fertility  of  earth  and  tribe  con- 
ceived as  one,  43  if. 

Fick,  A.,  6i2. 

Fire,  heavenly,  117. 

First  Cause,  and  essence  of  God, 
188  ;    =t6  ayaOoVy  170,  193  f. 

Florus,  41^. 

Forbidden  Days,  212. 

Fortune,  beneath  Moon,  127  j 
worship  of,  1 12-14,  201. 

Frazer,  Dr.  ].  G.,  30^  32^,  40, 

French  Revolution,  58. 


Gaertringen,  Hiller  v.,  32^. 
Gardner,  Professor  P.,  jy^,  1292. 
Geffcken,  J.,  181I. 
Gennep,  A.  Van,  44^. 
Gerontes,  51. 

Ghosts,  at  Anthesteria,  31,  48. 
Gladstone,  Mr.,  25. 
Gnosticism,  128,  131,  143-6. 
God,    conception   of,    in   savage 

tribes,  23. 
God-Man,  as  King,  133-40;    as 

Redeemer,  141-6. 
Gods,   appearing  in  battle,  41  ; 

Cosmic      and      Hypercosmic, 

194  f. ;    existence  admitted  by 

Stoics  and  Epicureans,  109  f.  ; 

man's  relation  to,  171  f.,  206  f.  ; 

nature  of,  187  f. 
Gomperz,  T.,  69^. 
Gorgon,  head  worn  by  Athena, 

38. 
Gregory,  162. 
Gruppe,  Dr.,  32^,  692,  70I,  71I, 

72\  76\ 


2l8 


INDEX 


Hagia    Triada,    sarcophagus    of, 

34. 

Halliday,  W.  R.,  462,  47I. 

Hallucination,  power  of,  41. 

Harnack,  A.,  178. 

Harrison,  Miss  J.  E.,  27-53 
passim,  63I,  69I,  70I,  752,  ye, 
118,  128. 

Hartland,  E.  S.,  23. 

Haverfield,  Professor  F.  J.,  108. 

Hecataeus,  119. 

Heimarmene,  115,  199. 

Helen,  Kore  as,  119. 

Hellenes,  conquered  tribes  took 
name  of,  60 ;  distinguished 
from  '  barbaroi ',  57  ;  no  tribe 
of,  existing  in  historical  times, 
59  ;  same  as  Achaioi,  58. 

Hellenism,  as  standard  of  culture, 
59  ;  strife  against  barbarism,  80. 

Hellenistic,  Age,  documents  and 
sources,  106  ;  stage  of  Religion, 

Hephaistos,  66. 

Hera,  attributes  of,  34  ;  deriva- 
tion of,  ^6^ ;  origin  and 
character  of,  75  f. ;  with  cow's 
head,  38. 

Heraclitus,  147,  148  f. 

Herakles,  connexion  with  Hera, 
76  ;   in  lion-skin,  38. 

Hercules,  becomes  a  god,  139. 

Heretics,  burning  of,  52,  53. 

Hermeneis,  Planets  as,  124. 

Hermes,  as  Mediator,  132  ;  origin 
and  character  of,  74  f.  ;  litur- 
gies, 131  f.  ;  and  planet  Mer- 
cury, 120. 

Hermetic  lore,  transmission  of, 
132. 

Herodotus,  41*,  57,  59,  6o\  62, 
70,  107,  159. 

'Heroes',  philosophers  as,  134; 
tombs  used  for  oracles,  51. 


Heroic  Age,  66  f.,  77. 

Hesiod,  62,  138^;  attempt  to 
systematize  religion,  84  f .  ;  re- 
ligious system  compared  with 
Homer's,  85. 

High  Church  movement,  58. 

Hippocrates,  109. 

Hippolytus,  127,  143. 

Hippothoon,  26.* 

Hoffmann,  Dr.  O.,  6i2,  712, 

Hogart'i,  D.  G.,  38I. 

Homer,  Achaian  and  aristocratic 
by  tradition,  78  ;  allegorical 
interpretation  of,  149 ;  Aphro- 
dite and  Ares  in,  76  f . ;  Argos  in, 
76 ;  Athena's  position  in,  72^ ; 
brought  to  Athens,  61  ;  date 
of  written,  6^^ ;  expurgation 
in,  68,  75  ;  Hera  in,  ^6 ; 
Hermes  in,  75  ;  Hymns,  69  ; 
Iliad,  48^  ;  mainly  Ionian,  79  ; 
not  primitive,  23  ;  Od.,  75^  ; 
Poseidon  prominent  in,  73  ; 
produced  religious  reformation, 
78-87  ;  religious  system  com- 
pared with  Hesiod's,  85  ;  un- 
Cretan,  85^  ;  word  '  barbaroi  * 
does  not  occur  in,  6o2. 

Hosioter,  bull  as,  35. 

Hubert  and  Mauss,  MM.,  1732. 

Hubris,  committed  by  Year,  47. 

Humility     based     on     '  asthenic 


emotion 


104^ 


Idealism  in  Stoicism,  Gnosticism, 

&c.,  149  f. 
Idols,  defence  of,  98^. 
Infanticide,  l6l. 
Initiations,   Hellenistic,    128-33  ; 

tribal,  44  ff. 
lonians,   Apollo  Patroos   as  god 

of,  70. 
Iranes,  45,  46^. 
Irenaeus,  119^,  1 312. 


INDEX 


219 


Iris,  75. 

IsiSj  132  ;  derivation  of,  147. 

Jacoby,  141^. 

Jaldabaoth  =  Saturn,  127. 

Jars,  Wine  and  Funeral,  31. 

Jason,  ^6. 

Javan,  sons  of,  60. 

Jews,    gave    up    sacrifice,     172 ; 

rejected  Planet  week,  123. 
Julian,     as     ascetic,     163,     181  ; 

belief    in    gods,    166  f.,    168  ; 

friendship      with       Sallustius, 

163-5  >  on  the  Sun,  191^. 
Justin,  84I. 
Juvenal,  113. 

Kaibel,  80I. 

Kant,  116. 

K€Lpo},  connexion  with  Kovpo^,  44. 

Keres,  48. 

Kern,  O.,  352. 

King,  I.,_43^; 

Kings,  divinity  of,  133  ;    divine, 

titles  of,  136. 
Koios,  147. 
Korai,    crystallized    Into     types, 

Kore,  as  universal  religious  ideal, 
118  f. ;  in  Thesmophoria,  29  f. ; 
Rape  of,  193. 

Kosmokratores,  126  if.,  145. 

Kouretes,    131  ;    Hymn   of,    43^, 

44-  . 
Kouroi,   crystallized   into   types, 

83  f.  ;   dance  of,  42. 
Kouros,      Megistos,      as      Zeus, 

Apollo,  &c.,  43,  69,  70;    Sun 

as,  44. 
Kourotrophoi,        Earth,        43  ; 

nymphs  and  rivers,  44  ;  Moon, 

44. 
Kp(xTo<;  and  /Sia,  of  ^€09,  39,  138^. 


Kronos,  explanation  of  myth, 
190  ;  ousted  from  Olympia  by 
Zeus,  64. 

Lake  Regillus,  gods  at,  41. 
Lang,  A.,  30I,  37I. 
Langloh  Parker,  Mrs.,  25. 
Language,  mystic  treatment  of, 

147. 
Leaf,  W.,  5  81,  6f. 
Leto,  69,  80^. 
Lincoln,  Abraham,  58. 
Lucian,  Icaro-Menippos,  28^. 
Lucretius,  53. 
Lysander,  136. 

Macedon,  Gods  of,  112  ;  rise  of, 
107. 

Mackail,  Professor  J.  W.,  61. 

Macrobius,  127. 

Magnesia,  bull-ritual  at,  35. 

Mana,  33,  37-9,48,  5°,  138^-. 

Man-god,  rejection  of,  by  Philo- 
sophy,   175  ;    worship   of,   82, 

1 3  3-4'^- 

Marathon,  heroes  at,  41. 

Marett,  R.  R.,  104I. 

Margoliouth,  Professor,  148^. 

Marriage,  Sacred,  31  f.,  131. 

Martyrs,  voluntary,  49. 

Mate,  45I. 

Maximus  of  Tyre,  98^. 

Mayer,  M.,  642. 

McDougall,  W.,  104I. 

Mediator  between  God  and  wor- 
shipper, 131  f.;  Saviour  as,  142. 

Medicine-king,  as  ^cd?,  39,  133  ; 
differentiation  from  real  6e6<;, 
40  ;  knows  what  is  Themis,  51  ; 
large  families  of,  39^ ;   powers 

of,  39- 
Meilichios,      half  -  anthropomor- 
phic, 40  ;   in  the  Diasia,  27-9  ; 
33. 


220 


INDEX 


Meister,  R.,  72^. 

Melanippe,  132. 

Melissus,  1332. 

*  Men's  House  ',  131. 

Meyer,  Ed.,  135^. 

Migrations,  64,  86. 

Mind,  nature  of,  197. 

Minoan  element   in  Greek  life, 

851. 

Minos,  bull  of,  34 ;    as  bull-god, 

37. 
Minuclus  Felix,  166,  174I. 
Mithraism,  35,  128. 
Mithras,  as  Mediator,  131  f.  ;    as 

Sun,  120  J    Liturgy,  126,  129, 

133. 
Mommsen,  August,  27^,  31^,  32^, 

382. 

Monotheism  in  classical  period, 
25  f.,  90  f.^ 

Moon,  divinity  of,  117  ff. 

Morals  in  antiquity,  161  f. 

Moret,  37I. 

Mountain,  sacred,  40. 

Mulder,  D.,  72^,  762. 

Muller,  H.  D.,  762. 

Murray,  G.,  39I,  42^,  462,  67I,  69I, 
82I,  861,  1331^  1381,1623. 

Music  of  the  Spheres,  122. 

Myres,  Professor  J.  L.,  58I. 

Myths,  Sallustius'  treatment  of, 
168  f.>  188-93  :  why  divine, 
188  f.;  five  species,  190;  ex- 
planation of  examples,  191-3. 

Naassenes,  127,  143. 
Nature-religion,  danger  of  huma- 
nizing, 88  f. 
Nazarius,  41^. 
Neo-Platonism,  165. 
Nilsson,  M.  P.,  322,  352,  443. 
Nilus,  St.,  36. 
voepa  ^I'crt?,  ry,  197^* 
Norden,  140I. 


Ogdoas,  128. 

Old  Men,  as  authorities  on 
Themis,  51  f. 

Olympia,  63  f. 

Olympian  gods,  brought  by 
Northern  invaders,  64 ;  charac- 
ter of,  65-77  j  coming  of,  62  ; 
explained  as  deified  mortals, 
140  ;  firmly  established  in  fifth 
century  b.  c,  24  ;  not  present 
at  Diasia,  &c.,  32  ;  not  prim- 
ary, 27;  origin  of,  36  ff.  ; 
substitutes  for  :  Fortune  and 
Fate,  111-16,  Heavenly  bodies, 
116-33,  Soul,  133-46;  why  so 
called,  63  f. 

religion,    achievements    of, 

93  ff. ;  aims  of,  78-87  ;  beauty 
of,  93  f.  ;  failure  of,  87-93, 
107.^ 

Olympieum,  63. 

Olympus,  Mount,  63  f. 

Oracles,  51-3. 

Oreibasia,  42. 

Oreibates,  42. 

Organization,  social,  202  f. 

Orphic  Hymns,  44I,  84I,  128. 

Orthia,  45. 

Osiris,  derivation  of,  147. 

Othin,  682. 

Ovid,  Me  tarn.,  yi^. 

Pagan,  prayer,  a,  182  f . ;  reaction, 
chap.  iv. 

Paganism,  final  development  of, 
177  f.;  struggle  with  Chris- 
tianity, 179  f. 

Palladion,  71. 

Pallas,  Athena  as,  71,  92  ;   giant, 

Panaetius,  125. 

Panathenaia,   Homer  recited  at, 

61. 
Paribeni,  R.,  34a. 


INDEX 


221 


Paris  myth,  explanation  of,  191." 
Parmenides  declares  God  is  One, 

25,  26I. 
Paul,  St.,  21,  37,  47,  80,  104,118, 

129,  138  ;   and  Barnabas,  142  ; 

his  religious  system,  145  f. 
Pausanias,  41*,  63I,  64^,  738,  j^, 
Payne,  E.  J,  432,  442. 
'  Pearl ',  the,  145. 
Pelasgians,     Athenians     as,     59 ; 

gods  of,  62. 
Pelopidas,  80^. 

TTC/XTTTOV   O-W/Xa,    I  1 7,    197^. 

Pericles,  Funeral  Speech  of,  96. 
Perseus  of  Macedon,  defeat  of, 

Phallic,  gods,  62,  74  ;  rites  ex- 
purgated, 81. 

Pharmakos,  48. 

Philo,  161  f. 

Philolaus,  146^. 

(fnXavOpoiTTiaf  136,  139. 

Philosophy,  Greek,  compared 
with  Christianity,  105. 

Pigs,  sacrifice  of,  29  ;  sacrifice  to, 
30  ;   why  sacred,  33. 

Pindar,  45^,  712. 

Pisistratus,  60  f.,  63,  6'j'^,  73. 

TTtaTLSi   21. 

Planets,  seven,  history  and  wor- 
ship of,  120-33. 

Plato,  26*,  70^,  73I,  96,  109,  119- 
20,  133  f-,  144.  148.  161,  170, 

I91I,  202^. 

Pliny,  114,  139. 

Plotinus,  130^. 

Plutarch,  4i4,  46I,  48^,  733,  80^, 
113,  119,  120I. 

Polis,  collapse  of,  107  ;  higher 
ideal  than  Nation,  108  ;  re- 
ligion of,  91,  96  f.  ;  replaces 
Tribe,  86  f . 

Polybius,  113. 

Porphyry,  130^. 


Poseidon,  origin  and  character  of, 

73  f. 
Posidonius,  108,  120^,  139  f. 
Precariousness  of  ancient  life,  49. 
Predestination,  126. 
Presbiston,  51  f. 
Preuss,  Dr.,  16. 
Proclus,  124,  1972. 
Projection,  Father  Christmas  as  a, 

29  ;    in  magic  ceremonies,  32  ; 

of  collective  emotion  as  god, 

Pronoia,  Stoic  belief  in,  125. 

Prophecy,  belief  in,  125  f. 

Protome,  38. 

Providence,  198  f. 

Psychopompos,  Hermes  as,  74. 

Ptah,  132. 

Ptolemy,      Epiphanes,      137  f.  ; 

Philadelphus      claims     divine 

honours,  135. 
Punishment,  why  not  immediate, 

212. 
Pythagoras,  122^,  148. 


Reformation,  the,  58. 

Reinach,  A.  J.,  39^. 

Reinach,  S.,  39^,  88^,  172I. 

Re-incarnation,  31. 

Reitzenstein,  131^,  143. 

Religion,  crimes  committed  in 
the  name  of,  22  ;  description 
of,  18-22  ;  distinguished  from 
superstition,  97  f. ;  Greek,  sig- 
nificance of,  15  ;  reformed  by 
Homer  :  (expurgation  of  rites, 
81-2  ;  systematization,  82-5; 
adaptation  to  new  social  order, 
85-7)  trend  of,  in  Hellenistic 
age,  108  f. ;   work  of  the  tribe, 

Reuterskiold,  }>l^. 
Ridgeway,  Professor,  58^  73^. 


2  22 


INDEX 


Rivers,  Dr.,  45I. 

Robertson  Smith,  Dr.,  35  f.,  38I. 

Rodin,  24. 

Rome,  as  a  Polis,  108. 

Roosevelt,  T.,  58. 

Ruah,  118. 


Sacramental  feast,  35  f. 

Sacrifice,  human,  49  f.,  80^  ; 
reason  for,  172  f.,  207  f. 

St.  Gaudens,  24,  27. 

Sallustius,  119^,  146;  analysis  of 
religious  views,  16^-^6  ;  creed 
of,  187-214  ;  friendship  with 
Julian,  163-5  ;  Neo-Platonist, 
165. 

2  Sam.,  881. 

Sarpedon,  48. 

Saturn,  127. 

Saviour,  as  Son  of  God  and 
Mediator,  142  f.,  144  ;  dying, 
50 ;  Gnostic,  143-5  ;  Year- 
Daimon  as,  47. 

Schleiermacher,  104^. 

Schurtz,  44^. 

Schwartz,  Ed.,  140^. 

'  Second  Man  ',  144  f. 

Seeck,  O.,  50^  72^. 

Selene,  Kore  as,  119. 

Siloam,  Tower  of,  in. 

Simon,  119^. 

Sin,  pollution  of,  47,  49. 

Slavery,  1 61. 

Snake,  supernatural,  33. 

Sophocles,  26*,  104. 

Sophrosyne,  133,  182. 

Soul,  divinity  of,  1 16  f.,  133-46  ; 
nature  of,  197  f. 

(TTrapay/xo?,  49. 

Sparta,  initiation  ceremonies  in, 

45  f. 

Sphere,  Fixed,  196. 
Stars,  divinity  of,  116-33. 


Steiner,  H.,  24. 

Stobaeus,  182. 

Stoicheia,  divinity  of,  117; 
planets  as,  122  ;  seven  vowels 
in  Greek  A  B  C,  123. 

Stoics,  120^,  125. 

^VfXTrdOeLa  twv  6\wv,  1 25. 

Sun,  =both  orb  and  ray,  191  ^  ; 
divinity  of,  117-20;  in  agri- 
culture, 44. 

Superstition,  a  bad  form  of 
religion,  20 ;  distinguished 
from  religion,  97  f. ;  flourishes 
in  unstable  societies,  113; 
rejected  by  Stoics  and  Epicu- 
reans, no. 

Swift,  Modest  Proposal^  zV-. 


Tabu,  48  ft'. 

TcAeto?,  46. 

Tele  tat,  46. 

Themis,  39,  50  ft. 

Theodoret,  165. 

Theophrastus,  124. 

$€6^  =  Oca-OS,  39  ;  use  of  the  word 

by  poets,  26. 
Theseus  in  Athens,  92, 
Oeorixoi,  derivation  of,  29^. 
Thesmophoria,  29  f. 
Thesmophoros,  29  f.,  33,  40. 
0eo-/xo^opa),  tw,  29^. 
Thoth,  132. 
Thucydides,  59,  159. 
Thumb,  A.,  6i2,  64I. 
Tomb-oracles,  51. 
Tombs  of  kings,  79. 
Transmigration  of  souls,  213. 
Tribe,   religion   of,   82  f.,   85  f. ; 

replaced  by  Polis,  86  f. 
rpLTos  (ToiTijp,  47,  50,  144. 
Troy,  Poseidon's  connexion  with, 

73. 
Tyrtaeus,  138^. 


INDEX 


225 


Uncharted  region  of  experience, 

18  ff.,  152,  183. 
Urdummheit,  16,  62,  93. 
Uzzah,  88. 

Vandal,  582. 

Vegetarianism,  21^. 

Vegetation-spirit,  46. 

Verrall,  A.  W.,  29I. 

Vice,  definition  of,  202. 

Virgin,    fallen,    Kore    as,    118  f., 

Virtue,  definition  of,  201  f.  ;  its 
own  reward,  176,  214 ;  re- 
wards of,  175,  214. 

Visions,  129  f. 

Vowels  as  signs  of  Seven  Planets, 
123,  126,  207. 

Warde  Fowler,  W.,  31I. 

Webster,  H.,  44^. 

Week  of  seven  days  established, 

123. 
Wendland,  P.,  137^  139'^. 
Wide,  S.,  92I. 


Wilamowitz-Moellendorfl,  U,  von, 
6i2,  693,  79. 

Winckelmann,  24. 

Witches,  burning  of,  21^,  53. 

Woodward,  A.  M.,  46I. 

World,  eternal  and  indestruc- 
tible, 170,  174,  196,  209-11  ; 
origin  of,  204-6. 

Xenophanes,    on   the   nature   of 

God,  26. 
HuVecris,  94. 

Year-Daimon,  46,  47. 

Zeller,  E.,  109. 

Zeno,  109  f.,  115,  1332. 

Zeus,  Aphiktor,  42  ;  attributes 
of,  34  ;  conquered  Cronos,  65  ; 
in  Magnesia  bull-ritual,  35  ; 
Meilichios,  27-9  ;  origin  and 
character  of,  68  f.  ;  sacrifice  at 
Diasia  not  given  to,  28. 

Zoilus,  148. 

Zoroastrianism,  58^,  127^. 


% 


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Hippolytus.    14th  Thousand. 

Bacchae.    loth  Thousand. 

The  Trojan  Women.    9th  Thousand. 

Electra.     nth  Thousand. 

Medea.    8th  Thousand. 

Iphigenia  in  Tauris.    6th  Thousand. 

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(Edipus  Tyrannus  of  Sophocles.    8th  Thousand. 


Separate  Plays,  is.  or  25. 


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